Jane Austen's Line that "One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other" comes to mind as we look at our August line-up, filled with stories of men whose pleasures would be, to the minds of many, no less than extreme pain. Irwin Shaw's hero, for instance, in The Top of the Hill, Part I of our excerpt from his forthcoming novel of the same title (published by Delacorte), feels that his life's worth living only when he's grinning down danger and death. But if Shaw's tale (illustrated by Vincent Topazio) is about a man with nerves of steel, Tony Sanchez' recounting of his seven years as on-staff dope supplier for the world's greatest rock-'n'-roll band is simply a story of nerves. Ladies and Gentlemen, The Rolling Stones.... taken from Sanchez' forthcoming memoir Up and Down with The Rolling Stones (William Morrow), is final proof (if you need it) that while a little decadence is fun, too much is bad for your health.
Playboy, (ISSN 0032-1478), August, 1979, Volume 26, Number 8. Published Monthly by Playboy, Playboy Bldg., 919 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill. 60611. Subscriptions: In the United States and its possessions, $33 for 36 Issues, $25 for 24 Issues, $14 for 12 Issues. Canada, $18 for 12 Issues. Elsewhere. $25 For 12 Issues. 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.: L.A., Stanley L. Perkins, Manager. 8721 Beverly Blvd-: San Francisco. Robert E. Stephens, Manager. 417 Montgomery ST.
First of all, do not move in with a man! At least, do not give up your own home or your work, to move in with a man. The more you start getting into a man and his life--trying to make it for the two of you--the less exciting you become. You need that electricity between the two of you all the time, that feeling of excitement present when you first met. Since it included your work and independence, you must never lose it.
Robin Cook has the natural predatory instinct that assures success in the pulp-fiction field. His second novel, Coma, went for the jugular--everyone's natural fear of hospitals and not always unwarranted distrust of doctors. Cook's latest, Sphinx (Putnam), shows a similar appreciation of mass culture. Our guess is that he saw all those people standing in line for the King Tut exhibit and speculated what 1,000,000 times the cover price of a book on Egyptian relics would add up to. Our next guess is that Cook will be able to buy the King Tut exhibit after this book hits the stands. The fast-paced Sphinx is essentially a Nancy Drew Goes to Egypt story for adults. The heroine has a doctorate in Egyptology, a stunning figure and doubts about her relationships with men. Her independence brings her to the Valley of the Kings; her intelligence, or lack of it, brings her into the midst of the black market; and her doubts get her into bed with a tall, dark stranger. Sphinx offers passion, romance, murder and artifacts galore. This book won't last 4000 years, but it will certainly get you through a few hours.
Don't dismiss Bern's Steak House at 1208 South Howard Avenue in Tampa, Florida, as just another beef eatery; this one-of-a-kind restaurant stands as a monument to American Simple--the steak and baked potato. Bern's prepares both so exquisitely that it has been suggested that the place be declared a national resource.
The Seventies have been busy times for explorers and adventurers. In fact, so many first ascents, descents and crossings have been made in the past decade that people are starting to think that every bit of wilderness has been conquered. They're wrong. At this very moment, hundreds of people are just dying (some literally) to do something no one else has ever done. A sample of what's left for the Eighties:
Sweet Home Chicago: Thanks to Alligator Records, you Blues Brothers fans can move up from Velveeta to the real thing on three fine albums' worth of Living Chicago Blues. Chicago still has the worst weather and best blues bands in the country.
Linda has been off being First Girlfriend, Dolly's gone disco and Bonnie is still working on her album. So the field is clear for a new contender in the Chick Singer of the Year Sweepstakes. Jennifer Warnes gets our vote. Shot Through the Heart (Arista) is a fine showcase for one of those voices people have been known to kill for. Warnes is a talented songwriter (the title cut will stay with you for a long while) with a songwriter's appreciation of other people's material. Her versions of Jesse Winchester's You Remember Me and Bob Dylan's Sign on the Window will erase your memory of the originals. It's nice to hear someone other than Dylan singing Dylan again.
Reeling and Rocking: Saturday Night Fever and Grease proved it; there are big audiences out there for rock movies. Coming up: Elton John's 1975 album Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy, which was the first album ever to enter the charts at number one, will be turned into a $2,000,000 animated feature by the people who made Yellow Submarine.Robert Stigwood and Allan Carr are discussing Grease II, with Andy Gibb in the lead role. Neil Diamond is thinking about a remake of Al Jolson's The Jazz Singer.Justin Hayward of the Moody Blues is set to appear in a musical version of Jonathan Swift's classic Gulliver's Travels, with a script by Larry Gelbart (creator of M*A*S*H and Sly Fox) and music by Lionel (Oliver!) Bart. First it will be taped for British TV, but a movie deal is also in the works. Finally, rumor has it that Cheech & Chong are very upset with producer Lou Adler. They're wondering where the big bucks are from their movie debut, Up in Smoke.
Woody Allen's Manhattan, set to Gershwin tunes and photographed in glorious black and white by cinematographer Gordon Willis to resemble a lot of romantic old movies--the way they should have been, if not quite the way they were--is a sad, hilarious and scintillating love letter to New York. That's only for starters. As another step forward in the evolution of Woody Allen from freewheeling funnyman to Very Important American Film Maker, Manhattan marks Woody's return to comedy, but a new kind of comedy--truer, more bittersweet than Annie Hall, with some of the chill brilliance of Interiors giving the laughter a frosty edge. Casting himself as Isaac Davis, a TV jokesmith who impulsively quits his job to concentrate on more serious projects, Woody indicates where he's at aesthetically without using the medium to transmit messages. While the sound track throbs with Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue or Someone to Watch over Me, plus a string of golden oldies to suit the movie's wonderful-town imagery, Manhattan introduces characters who seem entirely out of sync with such mellow music. To quote the film, they're people who "are constantly creating these unnecessary neurotic problems for themselves." The misfits in Isaac's immediate circle include his former wife (Meryl Streep), who left him because she fell in love with another woman and is writing a book about their marriage; his best friend, Yale (Michael Murphy, An Unmarried Woman's truant hubby); the friend's wife (Anne Byrne, once known as Mrs. Dustin Hoffman) and his flaky mistress Mary (Diane Keaton, never better, which means incredibly good). When Yale describes Mary to Isaac as a brainy girl, a writer who is "nervous, high-strung, elusive," Isaac's eyes brighten. "Sounds wonderful" to him. He ultimately inherits Mary from his friend, who wants her back again after Isaac has dumped his own favorite plaything, a high school girl (played deliciously by Mariel Hemingway) precocious enough to handle her homework, along with Isaac's "wry sense of humor and astonishing sexual technique."
News flash: My political spies tell me that Maureen Reagan, sometime actress and daughter of Ronald, is seriously considering running against California Senator S. I. Hayakawa in 1982's Republican primary. As of this writing, Maureen has not announced her plans, but sources close to her claim she has definitely made up her mind to go after Hayakawa's Senate seat. Aside from a few film roles and appearances on a spate of ill-fated talk shows, Maureen has spent most of her time throughout the past few years as an active campaigner for women's rights. Her political views are considerably more liberal than those of her dad.
How do you respond when a girl asks what you do for a living? Ever since the Michelle Triola--Lee Marvin fiasco, I've been wary of gold diggers. There seems to be a class of girl in California that preys on success. When a girl in a bar starts interrogating me on what I do, I can just see the dollar signs in her eyes. Am I overreacting?--H. S., Long Beach, California.
In October 1959, our very first editorial statement, "The Contaminators," warned against the dangers of radioactivity--in that case, from nuclear-bomb-test fallout. In the intervening years, we have provided a forum, through the "Playboy Interview" and elsewhere in the magazine, for proponents of soft-energy alternatives to nuclear power: environmentalist Barry Commoner, actor/ solar-energy crusader Robert Redford, actress/activist Jane Fonda. Now, in the wake of "The China Syndrome," the near catastrophe at Three Mile Island and, in the biggest demonstration since Vietnam, the march of some 65,000 persons on Washington, demanding that nuclear power plants be shut down, it seems an appropriate time to probe the other side of the argument. We have chosen to present an interview with the man who is perhaps nuclear energy's most outspoken advocate, Edward Teller--the so-called father of the H-bomb. An almost Strangelovian figure to his detractors, Teller is a man of archconservative views who is now considering a race for the U.S. Senate.
Stay as You Are, an Italian film slated to open shortly in the United States, promises controversy. If the plot, which involves incest, doesn't create a stir, the fine performances by gracefully aging Marcello Mastroianni and newcomer Nastassja Kinski will. Director Alberto Lattuada's tale stars Mastroianni as a 50ish architect romancing an 18-year-old (Kinski) who just might be his daughter. The enigmatic pairing of Kinski with Mastroianni in Stay as You Are sends screen sparks flying. Kinski is a budding new German actress who has been likened to Julie Christie and to a young Ingrid Bergman. We can expect to see more of Nastassja: Director Roman Polanski selected her to play the title role in his forthcoming adaptation of Thomas Hardy's Tess of the D'Urbervilles.
"The Main Thing is just to relax," says the world's most relaxed runner as we jog slowly up Chestnut Hill Avenue in Boston. "Just keep the body plumb, head to toe. A lot of beginners make the mistake of leaning too far forward. And of taking too long a stride."
Whether it's hot accents of tie and pocket square or shiny shorts for jogging, bright and unusual colorings are making it in menswear again. Prior to this summer, the radical change in the menswear silhouette from broad lapels and fatties to a narrow-lapelled, skinny-tied look with tapered, pleated trousers had necessitated that clothing colors stay relatively safe and subtle. Man, being the conservative creature that he is, is wont to move slowly (and rightly so) when drastically altering the cut and color of what he puts on his back. But now the disco influence is being felt, and flash and fun are finding their way back into fashion. We dig it.
"I'm definitely a sucker for the romantic approach," admits Vancouver-born Dorothy Stratten, a statuesque blonde who also happens to have been a finalist in our Great Playmate Hunt. "Romance is effective for me," she continues, "because I'm a very sensitive person. I can laugh and cry over something in the same moment. Small romantic gestures--like getting flowers at an unexpected moment--really turn me on; but my main romantic daydream is to be up in the mountains with lots of snow on the ground, in some rustic old cabin with a roaring fire, a candlelight dinner for two and, later, wine on the couch by the fire and soft music. I know it sounds old-fashioned, in a way, but I don't care." When she's not concocting romantic scenarios, Dorothy, who recently moved south to sunny Los Angeles from British Columbia, attends an exercise class regularly ("I'm so paranoid about getting fat--it's the most neurotic thing about me"), takes acting lessons ("I'd like to be competent in all types of acting--romance, drama, comedy, even horror"), works as a Bunny at the L.A. Club and writes poetry--romantic poetry, of course. "I think I express myself better in poetic form," Dorothy muses. "I'm basically a very shy person and I often get frustrated trying to express myself verbally, so I'll just write a poem for a friend and communicate my feelings that way. I get my inspirations at the strangest times, though--in the shower, at the dinner table, on a bus. But no matter where I am, I just have to write my thoughts down immediately." Although Dorothy's poetry is not intended for publication, she did consent to let us print the following verse: "The intimate feeling / of your touch / your body / against mine / embraced / and protected. Words are spared / but are not needed / because the message / is felt / mutually. In your absence / my mind is still / on our time spent / but also, / my mind / is on tomorrow / hoping it will be / as the yesterday / we were together / because / I love you."
It is only fair to tell you. sir." the young masseuse intoned by rote, "that this is a legitimate massage establishment, and that all I can give you is a therapeutic rubdown. Now, is there anything i can do for you before I begin?"
The Pecos river runs green and cool through Carlsbad, New Mexico, the town that gave its name to the famous caverns, down in the southeastern corner of the state. If you meet a man in Carlsbad named Bob Light, and if you get on with him, he'll show you the river. He'll put you in one of the throaty, silver-flake jet boats he sells as a side line to his oil-prospecting business and take you for a cruise up the Pecos past the expensive riverside houses that the better people in Carlsbad occupy. He'll tell you who built the houses--his father-in-law built some of them and Bob and his attractive wife, Jo Anna, built theirs themselves, laid 55,000 bricks on the facings and the grounds--and he'll tell you about the people who live in the houses. You'll reverse at the country club, tennis courts along the river, and return past the long riverside park, where boys and old men are fishing lazily in the afternoon sun, past the small amusement park on the east bank that the local Coca-Cola people built and maintain for Carlsbad's kids, even though it probably operates in the red from year to year, reverse again at the city power plant that runs cleanly on local natural gas, and dock at the city park. Bob will slip you into the restored XK-E Jaguar convertible you just watched him buy, cash on the barrelhead, as a surprise Valentine's Day present for his wife, and with the top down, wind-blown in Sunbelt warmth, you'll spin through the town, Bob pointing out the landmarks.
If Spiraling white-wine costs are driving you to lager and lemonade, hang in, chum--the Italians are coming. In fact, they're here! With over two billion gallons produced annually, Italy is the world's largest winegrower. Fortunately, the paisanos are willing to share this bounty to the extent that half our imported wines come from Italy.
Part I it was by chance that he met Dunky Aldridge on Thursday on Fifth Avenue after work. It was an unlucky meeting, though they greeted each other cordially and had had good times together and had drunk considerable beer in each other's company. But on Saturday morning, Aldridge was one of the two men who were killed.
When candy loving, our 25th-anniversary Playmate, visited Chicago last spring, she mentioned that she'd long wanted to visit the original Playboy Mansion on posh North State Parkway, from which, during the Sixties and early Seventies, Editor-Publisher Hugh Hefner conducted the business of his burgeoning Playboy empire. It just so happened that on the weekend of Candy's arrival, the Mansion, frequently used by Playboy and other organizations for everything from business meetings to fund-raising dinners, had an empty calendar. So, since Candy's pleasure is also ours, we turned her loose in the 74-room house to seek her pleasure. And Candy discovered something that those of us who live in Chicago know well: Even though Hefner himself has moved West, his Chicago headquarters still have a very special magic. "I felt as if I were in James Bond's house," Candy says. "Push a button, there's a hidden door to the bedroom; push another button, there's a picture of yourself over the bed; push another button, there's a Jacuzzi."
Desponding Phyllis was enduedWith ev'ry talent of a prude:She trembled when a man drew near; Salute her, and she turned her ear:If o'er against her you were placed,She durst not look above your waist:She'd rather take you to her bed,Than let you see her dress her head;In church you hear her, thro' the crowd,Repeat the absolution loud:In church, secure behind her fan,She durst behold that monster man:There practiced how to place her head,And bite her lips to make them red;Or, on the mat devoutly kneeling,Would lift her eyes up to the ceiling.And heave her bosom unaware,For neighboring beaux to see it bare.
Pro Football's second most exciting annual event occurs during the first week of May. The college draft was once held in late January but was moved back because of the league's collective-bar-gaining agreement with the players' union, to give players who had played out their options more time to seek employment with other teams. The later date also serves to revive flagging fan interest halfway between the Super Bowl and the pre-season skirmishes of August and provides less haggling time for the agents of choice draftees. The draft is, for both participants and observes, a combination of a commodities exchange in full blast and a Pentagon war room. The future of franchises and the careers of coaches hang on the decisions made during those two frantic days.
Ariel is wandering Across the Dark star with Max, Her Nuclear-powered sex aid in search of the Blind Date.Will he be wearing a flower in his pseudopod? Don't ask me I'm in the dark too...Hit the bright something's Tickling my FancyWell, I've got Headlights, you know Standard-Equipment brights, dims foc- lamps...
Ah, yes, we can see it now: a log cabin nestled in the tall pints, crickets gently chirping at dusk, perhaps a little brook winding down the side of a hill. What harried urbanite hasn't dreamed of a country place for getting away from it all?
About 50 years ago, a woman we'll call Mrs. Holtman became Pregnant despite the fact that she and her husband hadn't had sex in years. Mr. Hoffman sued for divorce. Mrs. Hoffman's defense was that she had inseminated herself by putting some semen from her husband's nocturnal emission onto a candle. She won the cast in court.
Candy is dandy and liquor is quicker, but if you really want to thaw a young lovely's cold, cold heart, try serving her some homemade ice cream. No, you don't have to spend the day churning rock salt and ice. Technology has eliminated the hassles; you just add the ingredients and turn on the machine. Almost before you can say chocolate chip, you'll have enough ice cream (or sherbet or frozen yogurt) to satisfy her innermost cravings. And who knows what that might lead to?
Part of the Art of dressing well is not so much accumulating a closet full of clothes as it is using what you've acquired in imaginative ways. For example, while manufacturers still label some shirts Dress and others Sport, the man with fashion self-confidence realizes that a shirt is a shirt and that it can be worn in a variety of ways, whether or not it comes in exact neck and sleeve sizes or small, medium and large. Here, we have créated four distinct looks using the same shirt throughout. Our point is simple: The more you dress with imagination, the closer you come to having true style.
The sounds and sensations took me back almost 20 years. A cold, damp wind whipping over and around the swept-back windshield, caressing the tips of my hair. A little British sports car darting through this corner and that of a lovely country lane. Exquisite exhaust noises of a strong and willing four-cylinder engine going about its work--growling, buzzing and burbling, combining with the wind and muted mechanical whirs and whines into a mixed symphony of erotic sound.