When I conceived this magazine a quarter of a century ago, I had no notion that it would become one of the most important, imitated, influential and yet controversial publishing ventures of our time. The early Fifties was an era of conformity and repression--of Eisenhower and Senator Joe McCarthy--the result of two decades of Depression and war. But it was also a period of reawakening in America--with a re-emphasis on the importance of the individual, on his rights and opportunities in a free society--a period of increasing affluence and leisure time. I wanted to publish a magazine that both influenced and reflected the socio-sexual changes taking place in America but that was--first and foremost--fun. Playboy was intended as a response to the repressive antisexual, anti-play-and-pleasure aspects of our puritan heritage.
Looks like we made it. Twenty-five years old and bigger and better than ever. On this auspicious occasion, it may be appropriate to ask us what it's like to work for the world's best magazine. Well, we can tell you it's no picnic. Manuscripts, for instance, get soggy in the Jacuzzi. Beautiful women clog the hallways. Editors are often dragged off the courts in mid-set just to meet deadlines. Last week, a laser acted up in the tenth-floor disco and burned a hole in the communal water bed, spilling Dom Pérignon all over the sable bedspread. Could you work under those conditions? We think not.
Playboy (ISSN 0032 --1478), January, 1979, Volume 26, Number 1. Published Monthly by Playboy, Playboy Bldg., 919 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill. 60611. Subscriptions: In the United States and its possessions, $33 for three years, $25 for two years, $14 for one year. Canada, $15 per year. Elsewhere, $25 per year. Allow 45 days for new subscriptions and renewals. Change of address: Send both old and new addresses to Playboy, Post Office Box 2420, Boulder, Colorado 80302, and allow 45 days for change. Marketing: Ed Condon, Director/Direct Marketing; Michael J. Murphy, Circulation Promotion Director. Advertising: Henry W. Marks, Advertising Director; Harold Duchin, National Sales Manager; Mark Evens, Associate Advertising Manager, 747 Third Ave., New York, N.Y. 10017; Chicago, Russ Weller, Associate Advertising Manager, 919 N. Michigan Ave.; Detroit, William F. Moore, Manager, 818 Fisher Bldg.; Los Angeles, Stanley L Perkins, Manager, 8721 Beverly Blvd.; San Francisco, Robert E. Stephens, Manager, 417 Montgomery St.
San Francisco's La Pantera restaurant, at 1234 Grant Avenue, is tucked into a tumble-down corner of North Beach just a wink away from Chinatown. Renato Nicolai cooks the family-style dinners, and they well may be the last good buy in America. His wife, Rena, who runs the just-us-folks dining room, with its posters of bella Italia and faded family photos, more often than not sits at the well-worn mahogany bar and sips a brandy with Calistoga water. Theirs is home cooking of the variety that has all but vanished in our space-age love affair with fast and frozen foods. One sits family style--that is, with other diners who may be strangers initially but ultimately become friends--at Formica-topped tables for eight. (If you're uncomfortable about the family-style seating, then host a table of your own for eight--the price is cheap enough.) For a prix fixe of $6.50 ($7.50 on weekends), one begins with slices of pepperoni and salami nibbled with the crusty bread that San Francisco bakers are geniuses at baking. This is followed with a God-forbid-you-go-away-hungry tureen of soup: either minestrone or a thick zesty pea soup, or a scatter of tiny pasta pearls in a simmering broth.
Physically the antithesis of Ethel Waters, the gorgeous Diahann Carroll has, nevertheless, with the aid of the Duke Ellington Orchestra under the direction of his son, Mercer Ellington, managed to offer A Tribute to Ethel Waters (Orinda) that is very close to the mark. Not that Carroll has attempted a facsimile of the legendary Miss Waters. Rather, she has gone for the spirit of the great actress-singer and, at that, she succeeds admirably. From the opening After You've Gone to the closing Supper Time, the session, lushly recorded on a digital master disc, maintains a consistently high quality and the Ellington orchestra's contribution toward that end (Sweet Georgia Brown and St. Louis Blues are instrumentals) should not be underestimated. Ethel Waters was a class act; Diahann Carroll and Mercer Ellington are no less.
Since 1978 wasn't the best year for pop music we've had lately, most of our gift-record picks for the holiday season are oldies in one way or another. For the teenagers in your life with exploding hormones, Ted Nugent's Double Live Gonzo (Epic) is macrobiotic mind-shred rock that explodes right along with them. Ditto Double Platinum (Casablanca) by Kiss, a greatest-hits album with several cuts remixed from the originals--to raise the assault level even higher, natch. Rockers who are more into music than mortar fire should appreciate Little Feat's Waiting for Columbus (Warner Bros.), a double live album we think is stronger even than its studio stuff, which is saying something. It's one of the best live albums of the year, along with the star-studded triple The Last Waltz (Warner Bros.), The Band's beautiful farewell to 15 years of touring together, helped out by Eric Clapton, Steve Stills, Joni Mitchell, Dylan, et al. Also, there was Muddy Waters, whose I'm Ready (Blue Sky), with sideman Johnny Winter, is blues from a fine old bottle. The real thing. Devotees of the ersatz, however, will no doubt appreciate receiving the sound tracks from Grease (RSO) and Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (RSO)--though they probably have them already. Anyone needing a real jolt from the Fifties would do much better (and you'd save several bucks) with Buddy Holly Lives (MCA), a solid collection of 20 Holly hits. And instead of RSO's synthetic polyester Sgt. Pepper, the Beatles' original album is still available on Capitol and, typical of the way the world's going, is cheaper than the imitation. Another blast from the past for your unreconstructed flower-power friends is The Essential Jimi Hendrix (Warner Bros.). And Willie Nelson's Stardust (Columbia) steps back yet another decade and more, back to September Song, Moonlight in Vermont and Someone to Watch Over Me--bittersweet and haunting, even if you don't go back that far.
Every skier needs a certain amount of basic information in order to plan a sane and rewarding vacation. What do the various resorts have to offer a beginner? An intermediate? An expert? There are two ways of getting this information. You can subscribe to the three major ski magazines (Skiing, Ski and Powder) and hope that the editors cover the resort for you before the end of the season. Or you can buy The Skier's Almanac (Scribner's), by I. William Berry. The author is a journalist, so you won't be burdened by the Zen Master prose that clutters some guides. You may not agree with some of Berry's summations (for instance, he writes off Taos, New Mexico; although the mountain has tried to kill us the past two times we skied it, it's still one of our favorites), but his description of some trails--e.g., the Irishman at Keystone, Colorado--may just have you changing your itinerary.
Season's greetings and best wishes for good reading: Here are our annual gift-book selections. We previewed some terrific books in the magazine this past year and among those that would make excellent presents are Kalki (Random House), by Gore Vidal, a tale that will entertain you all the way to the end of the world; Thomas Berger's Arthur Rex (Delacorte), which reinterprets the legend of the Knights of the Round Table; and The Flounder (Harcourt Brace Jovanovich), by Günter Grass, an extravagant stew of history, legend, myth, religion and fantasy.
Ingmar Bergman's new movie, Autumn Sonata, is a mother-daughter title bout on the subject of love, or the lack of it, and gets straight to the heart of the matter. To label this a woman's film would be a mistake, because it is primarily a drama about parents and children of either sex and the pain inflicted on both sides. Oddly enough, Woody Allen's Interiors examines similar material in a diffused light, trying very hard to create complexities where Bergman tries to burn them away--and that, no doubt, is the essential difference between the work of a master and that of an ardent disciple. Ingrid Bergman and Liv Ullmann are the antagonists, with Ingrid--provocatively cast in a role that bears certain resemblances to her own personal history--as an internationally famous concert pianist who has never put motherhood among her top priorities. Ullmann plays her mousy, dullish daughter, married to a phlegmatic country minister and nursing her grudges in a small Norwegian town. When she invites Momma for a visit after a separation of seven years, the mouse starts heating up her indictment and proves to be about as harmless as a rabid bat, with so much venom in her that a quiet country weekend becomes an emotional Armageddon with no holds barred. Because Liv's dazzling performances in Bergman films are almost standardized by now, the real revelation is Ingrid, speaking Swedish onscreen for the first time since she became a superstar several decades ago and sending up flares again in the flashiest role to come her way since she won an Oscar for Gaslight back in 1944. Beautifully matured at 62, Ingrid is worldly, glamorous, bitchy and just fine. To watch the subtle shades of expression on her face when her ungifted daughter sits at the piano to muddle through a Chopin prelude is a show in itself, perfect eloquence without a word spoken. Autumn Sonata makes you wonder why Ingrid and Ingmar (no relation) waited so long to get together when it seems to be simple mathematics that two Bergmans are even better than one.
Idol Gossip: Ron Howard and Cindy Williams will be married and have a couple of kids in Purple Haze, Universal's sequel to American Graffiti.Paul Le Mat and Candy Clark return, but the Richard Dreyfuss character is out. Howard is also busy prepping Hamburger Heaven, which he will direct, with Henry Winkler starring and producing.... Close Encounters of the Third Kind will be rereleased in May, but it won't be the same CE3K, you saw the first time. Director Steven Spielberg has decided to make some changes--he'll re-edit parts and even plans to shoot some new footage. Spielberg's next directorial project is 1941, a comedy-adventure about strange goings on in Los Angeles on the day Pearl Harbor was bombed.... Author Diane Johnson's bio of Dashiell Hammett for Random House ought to be the definitive one, since Hammett's longtime friend, Lillian Hellman, is cooperating fully on the project. Johnson's been taping interviews with Hellman and has access to Hammett's correspondence, manuscripts and mementos. We won't be at all surprised if Jason Robards nabs the film role.... llie Nastase and, possibly, Björn Borg will play against Dean-Paul Martin in Para-mount's Players. The Bob Evans production is the story of a young tennis hustler who makes it to Wimbledon (falling in love, on the way, with Ali MacGraw). Originally, the script called for Nastase to lose to Martin, but apparently Ilie refused to lose to anyone, movie or no movie, so the script was altered to have Nastase pull a leg muscle and default. ... Author Dan Greenburg has been signed by Universal to script his latest book, Love Kills.
About a year ago, a ladyfriend and I enjoyed the evening by making love. After climaxing four times, I was totally spent, but she was just getting started for a long night. From her purse, she took out what appeared to be a jar of cold cream and started rubbing it on my penis. It took just a few seconds for a warmth to spread through my cock and it became rock hard. We made love again, not once but three more times, and I climaxed each time. If that had not actually happened to me, I would have found it hard to believe. The lady has since moved out of town, taking the secret of the miracle cream with her. I recently bought some worthless gel from an adult bookstore, so my question is: What was that magic cream and where can I get more?--W. P., Portland, Oregon.
The first issue of Playboy was published in December 1953 with a personal investment of $600 and $6000 more begged or borrowed from anyone who would stand still long enough to listen to "a new idea for a men's magazine." It had no date on its cover, because we had so little money we weren't sure there would ever be a second issue. But by the early Sixties, Playboy was being described as "the publishing phenomenon of the century" and as a veritable "handbook for the urban male." The magazine became an increasingly popular subject of discussion and debate by columnists, commentators, clergymen and even a few serious social scientists writing in scholarly journals.
After expressing his basic principles and editorial credo in "The Playboy Philosophy," Hefner went on to create "The Playboy Forum," The Playboy Foundation and, most recently, The Playboy Legal Defense Team--to "put our money where our mouth is," as some described our decision to support various social, political and legal reforms. The following is a chronological listing of some of the events that highlight Playboy's increasing social activism over the years.
He is considered by many to be the world's greatest living actor, the man who changed the style of the movies, the most influential and widely imitated actor of his generation. He burst onto our consciousness wearing a torn T-shirt, mumbling, growling, scowling, screaming for "Stel-la!" as Stanley Kowalski in Tennessee Williams' "A Streetcar Named Desire," first on Broadway, then on film. It marked the beginning of a career that was to be as wild as many of the characters he so expertly portrayed.
It is a Great Help for a man to be in love with himself. For an actor, however, it is absolutely essential. Self-love is the most enduring and satisfactory emotion of which human life is capable. I have little patience with anyone who is not self-satisfied. I am always pleased to see my friends, happy to be with my wife and family, but the high spot of every day is when I first catch a glimpse of myself in the shaving mirror. At the same time, I am aware that my fans and I cannot always continue to grow old together. Some of them must, alas, fall by the wayside or grow too old and infirm to totter down the aisle even at matinees. They must, of necessity, content themselves with their memories of my performances in earlier and happier days. My problem, therefore, since memory pays nothing at the box office, is to entrap others who have so far evaded the net that I have so assiduously cast in the small pond of which I own the fishing rights. I have never been a deep-sea fisherman; it is not in my nature to trawl in the vast oceans where Olivier, Richardson, Gielgud and Robards defy the elements. I avoid the great play as I would the great wave. I prefer the ripples of laughter (continued on page 306)British Drag(continued from page 151) and when I am becalmed or capsize, I have only to step from the boat and wade ashore. Enough of metaphors; the problem that faces me these days is to find a role for a septuagenarian who isn't either a mad scientist or a heartbroken academician or even a gin-soused old circus clown. Nor am I attracted to the part of an octogenarian butler who dies mysteriously in act one.
We're Not Sure that such a poll has ever been taken, but we'd bet that if readers were asked to give the first phrase they thought of in association with Playboy, that phrase most often would be: "Women. Beautiful women." After all, way back in 1960, an editorial in that distinctly nonerotic London publication The Architects' Journal called our Playmates "one of America's greatest gifts to Western culture." We'll buy that, but we'd also like to point out--as most of you already know--that the Playmates form only part of the, ah, body of our contribution to the worldwide pastime of girl watching. Some of this generation's most famous movie goddesses have appeared in Playboy; the magazine got its start, in fact, with one such legend, Marilyn Monroe. When we began making plans for this silver-anniversary issue, we found it difficult to choose which beautiful women to feature. (Everyone should have such troubles.) If you don't find your personal favorite among those shown, you have our sincerest regrets, but that's also a tribute to the wealth of gorgeous ladies who've made the pages of Playboy such a joy to behold.
Let us Now praise Bill Moyers and Robert MacNeil. They are journalists, both of them, television journalists, to be specific, and they do not make as much money as some of their colleagues on the network news shows, nor do they have anywhere near the audiences. But they have become, in the best sense, in a society that desperately needs precisely this, among our best national voices. They form an important part of our national social life line. They have done that, ironically enough, by resisting the temptations of the far more powerful life line of network television.
Don't Look Now, but the Eighties are almost upon us. Which means that the usual Chicken Little end-of-the-world doomsters are rushing in circles, colliding with themselves and shouting, "Head for the hills, the dam is broke." Here comes 1984. Watch out, there's Big Brother.
Sex, celebrities and comedy have been important ingredients throughout Playboy's 25-year history. We need not remind anyone that Marilyn Monroe appeared in our first issue. What many may not remember, however, is that that first issue also contained a cartoon feature (Vip on Sex) and a nude pictorial with humorous captions (An Open Letter from California). Eventually, we hit upon blending all three elements in one package, and the celebrity sexcapade has become one of our more popular endeavors. As an anniversary treat, we're encoring scenes from some of those pictorials; if you're a longtime Playboy reader, there are sure to be a number of others that have tickled your funny bone and tantalized your libido. Between-the-scenes shootings on movie sets have been an especially good source of big names, bodies and belly laughs. Remember In Bed with Becket (February 1964)? Shot during the filming of Becket, it showed us how Richard Burton, Peter O'Toole and French actress Veronique Vendell relaxed on the set between takes: They went to bed, that's how. We've always wondered if director Peter Glenville had any trouble getting his stars back to the script. Sean Connery and Jean Seberg had some good clean fun in Sean Connery Strikes Again! (July 1966) as they stirred things up in a whirlpool bath during the making of A Fine Madness. The late Zero Mostel seemed to have a penchant for choosing roles in movies that the theatergoing public never saw, at least in their original form. A sex-comedy film called Fourplay was to have had a segment in which Zero and Estelle Parsons were forced to ball on national TV in order to ransom their kidnaped daughter. Censors intervened and those scenes appeared in Playboy but not at your local cinema. Many of the shots from 37"-22"-37" Meets 50"-47"-50" (September 1969), in which Zero and Julie Newmar shared a bubble bath, were meant to be seen in Monsieur Lecoq; the film was never finished because of production problems. Woody Allen has made several appearances in Playboy, as author, scriptwriter and star. It's possible that none of his relatives have spoken to him since our November 1967 publication of My Family Photo Album, in which he told us that "a family characteristic was the craving to be trapped by muscular women, held down and breaded like a veal cutlet." Still more weird sexual fantasies were acted out in Woody's cinematic version of Dr. David Reuben's best seller, Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex. In the film (and, not incidentally, in our September 1972 feature), Allen depicted everyman's damp fantasies. Lest you think we're resting on our laurels, our cameras are already focusing on still more stars doing their uninhibited best for future issues.
At the peak of the 25th Anniversary Playmate Hunt, a little old lady called the Governors Inn near Raleigh, North Carolina, where photographer Bill Arsenault was receiving Playmate applicants. "May I speak to Mr. Playboy?" she asked. "Can you be more specific?" asked the hotel operator. "Yes," said the lady, "I want to speak to the Devil." "I'm sorry," came the reply, "but neither party is registered here."
After A Somewhat subdued post-Vietnam period, male attire has progressed to richly creative and liberated designs. With liberation comes redefinition, and Playboy asked five emerging design talents to create for us their interpretations of the term elegance as they see it for the Eighties. Their predictions? A trend to relaxed dressing, with an emphasis on fine natural fabrics coupled with a looser silhouette. In other words, nothing very uptight. Our prediction? Tomorrow's styles should be terrific!
Now that you've checked out Interlude with the Undead on the preceding pages and learned everything you always wanted to know about the sex life of a vampire but were afraid to ask, we thought you'd like to see what the well-dressed fiend wears when he steps out on the town. Our model, of course, is George Hamilton, who's photographed in black tie on the movie set of his new spoof of the Dracula legend, Love at First Bite. We chose Hamilton because vampires, being night people, dig black tie--and so do more males these days. Not only does going black tie make you feel terrific but the look nicely complements today's ultrachic female evening wear. If you're feeling devilish, wear your black-tie outfit with a slight Dracish sneer. Neck biting is optional.
She told him with a little gesture he had never seen her use before. Joan had called from the station, having lunched, Richard knew, with her lover. It was a Saturday, and his older son had taken his convertible; Joan's Volvo was new and for several minutes refused to go into first gear for him. By the time he had reached the center of town, she had walked down the main street and up the hill to the green. It was September, leafy and warm, yet with a crystal chill on things, an uncanny clarity. Even from a distance they smiled to see each other. She opened the door and seated herself, fastening the safety belt to silence its chastening buzz. Her face was rosy from her walk, her city clothes looked like a costume, she carried a small package or two, token of her "shopping." Richard tried to pull a U turn on the narrow street, and in the long moment of his halting and groping for reverse gear, she told him. "Darley," she said and, oddly, tentatively, soundlessly, tapped the fingers of one hand into the palm of the other, a gesture between a child's clap of glee and an adult's signal for attention, "I've decided to kick you out. I'm going to ask you to leave town."
It's been a good 25 years for Playboy and, naturally, we're looking forward to another good 25. But who knows what fate holds in store? Why, Sydney Omarr, of course. We asked America's Mr. Astrology to read Playboy's chart and give us a forecast for 1979 and a long-range peep at the next quarter century. Editor-Publisher Hugh M. Hefner provided Omarr with an approximate birth date for Playboy (the day and hour the first magazine appeared on newsstands) and with that birth date--November 8, 1953, 5:30 A.M. in Chicago, Illinois--Omarr drew up the chart you see below. His interpretation follows.
Six Years Old is a very difficult age to be--maybe because you don't have a real body that will defend against anything. Your body is just sort of skinny, and when you're six, there's no sign of that Charles Atlas look.
Take a good close look at this page. It just could be the best collection of neck-snapping, knockout beautiful women we've ever presented. It could also be the last time you'll ever see them all together. Travel fever has gripped these girls, scattering them, literally, to the four corners of the earth. But they'll be back; on TV, in movie theaters and on numerous magazine covers, because talent abounds here and it will not be denied. Our loss is the world's gain, as they say, and we may get a little misty-eyed, but we don't really mind. It's been a year of sheer pleasure for us--and for our readers. Now they belong to their own bright, promising futures.
Once again, the staffs of the Editorial, Art and Photo Departments (with the cartoon people getting in on the act for the first time) have had their annual office shoot-out to establish who wins what. There were tough decisions to make, but we made them. Each award winner will pick up a nifty medallion and a niftier stack of Federal Reserve Notes. Winning writers in each category will receive $1000, runners-up, $500; winning illustrators get $1000, honorable mention, $500. Photo prizes are: $1000 each for best pictorial essay and best Playmate shooting; $500 each for best pictorial reportage and best service pictorial. The top-ranked cartoonist in each category will have $1000 coming his way. And, by way of celebrating our 25th anniversary, Playboy is presenting special $2500 awards to those who helped make all the celebrating possible through their contributions over the years. Now, let's hear it for the contributors.
What's the most felicitous way to toast Playboy's silver anniversary? With a Playboy drink, of course. To make the occasion even more enjoyable, we've rounded up 25 outstanding examples from the myriad that have appeared in these pages, the best of the breed! They run the gamut from summer coolers to holiday bowls, tangy appetite whetters to after-dinner sips. You'll find them an imaginative, piquant and occasionally inspired collection--each one a distinguished representation of the barman's art. You may not endorse every choice--de gustibus and all that--but chances are many of your personal favorites are included here, plus a few that may have slipped by you the first time around. To do them justice, you should assemble a panel of convivial quaffers to sample the drinks mediratively, then cast ballots for the quarter-century champion--the drink of the Playboy era.
If you're a motorcyclist who lives in one of the colder regions of the States, you've probably got your machine tucked away in storage, awaiting the day when the ice and salt have disappeared from the streets. But even though you may not be out riding, it's not too soon to plan for next summer's cycling adventures--and the most exciting one of all is to hop the big pond and take your two-wheel balancing act to Europe.
From the people who have given you all that audio machinery to reproduce accurately whatever is on a record or tape now come products designed to let you drastically change the original signal. For the most part, the new add-ons are direct descendants of devices used in professional sound work and, indeed, a stereo system outfitted with one or more of them permits its owner to disagree with the recording engineer and even--in some instances--to effectively alter the acoustics of his listening room.
Gosh and Golly, Priscilla! It sure is nice of you to come over and help me with my studies while my folks are away!Remember, Jerry! none of your funny pranks! I invited Mary Lou along to Chaperone, just in case!
Salyewtashuns, equinous quadrewped! (Hic!) emboldened as I am by the salubrious ministrashuns of Vintage Firewater, might I propose as balm for my insurgent Hornyness an unconvenshunal Carnal Alliance between Thyself and me?
Ariel & Max, her Robot Valet, are Cruising the expanses of space, considering the music of the spheres, when suddenly....Ariel! Our starships are disappearing near the planet Arboron.Poor commander Starlog -- He's so excitable.MM... That's terrific, max. A little more to the left!
It's the "Happy Hour"... that magic moment when the T-Bars stop and the ski bars start. Make no mistake. These are skiers first. And, to a man, they'll tell you there's no woman in the world who's worth a run down a slope of fresh powder. This adventure concerns the downhill racers and their struggle to conquer the powdered slopes on the perfumed peaks of our heroine.
Twenty-five years ago, a fledgling Playboy featured Marilyn Monroe as its first Playmate and the family boob tube was built like a box. Twenty-five years later, oh, baby, look at them now: Playboy is the hefty, handsome publication you're holding and TV sets have screens in a variety of sizes from postage stamp to more than a yard wide. Below, you see the shape of TVs to come: Sharp Electronics' new superthin EL model that can sit L-shaped, as shown, or hang flat against a wall. The eight-pound black-and-white set, which Sharp hopes to introduce by late 1979 or early 1980, has an ultraclear yellowish-orange picture created by pulses that alternately polarize and depolarize electrodes built into the screen. Pretty Sharp!
The rediscovery of what fun it is to go formal has brought about a problem: There's a whole generation out there that never learned how to tie a bow tie. So here's how, gentlemen, demonstrated by a dapper fellow wearing a three-piece formal outfit, by Tyrone, $495; a wing-collar shirt, by Gil Truedsson, $65; and a pin-dot bow tie, by Vicky Davis, Ltd.,$8.50.