We've always liked the fact that there's an herb called summer savory, because the seasons of the year flavor our life--each with its particular enjoyments--and of all the seasons, we savor summer the most. If you do, too, you'll probably want to save this issue, if only to retain Solar Power, the ultimate guide to living and loving on the beach. And for those chilly nights when a swimsuit isn't enough, read In the Cool of the Evening, by Fashion Director David Platt (photographed by Denis Piel), our selection of this year's best casual summer eveningwear.
Playboy, (ISSN 0032-1478, July, 1980, Volume 27, Number 7. Published Monthly by Playboy, Playboy Bldg., 919 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill. 60611. Subscriptions: In the United States and its possessions, $39 for 36 issues, $28 for 24 issues, $16 for 12 issues. Canada, $24 for 12 issues. Elsewhere, $31 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; Richard Atkins, Fashion Advertising Manager, 747 Third Avenue, New York, New York 10017; Chicago, Russ Weller, Associate Advertising Manager, 919 North Michigan Avenue; Troy Michigan, Jess Ballew, Manager, 3001 W. Big Beaver Road; Los Angeles, Stanley L. Perkins, Manager, 4311 Wilshire Boulevard; San Francisco, Tom Jones, Manager, 417 Montgomery Street.
Moguls (Holt, Rinehart & Winston), by Michael Pye, might have been called "The Hollywood Reporter Goes to Harvard Business School." There are touches of gossip and calculated glamor, but Pye has essentially put together a series of casebook studies of corporate success. In the spotlight are Jules Stein, onetime big-band agent and founder of the superagency MCA; William S. Paley, the man behind the CBS eye; David Merrick, the classic Broadway entrepreneur/showman; Peter Guber, the whiz kid behind Casablanca film-works; Trevor Nunn, of the Royal Shakespeare Company; and Robert Stigwood, the man behind the Bee Gees and Saturday Night Fever. These guys make the military-industrial complex look like small potatoes. If you want to know who puts the pop in the pop culture, buy this book. It is an education in the business of show business.
Have you ever thought of entering a canoe race that ran nonstop down 419 miles of river? Ever wished that the marathon you were running was even longer--say another 75 miles or so? No? Neither have we; but since America is teeming with exercise junkies, it follows that there should be a lunatic fringe of fitness freaks who think those are great ideas. Well, not only do such extremists actually exist, they are organized, to the point of holding contests.
Although they need no introduction after topping the charts with record sales of well over 40,000,000, the Village People are the big news in producer Allan Carr's wildly exuberant and glittery "now" musical, Can't Stop the Music. Unisex is alive and well (or sick, if you insist) and throbbing through every frame of Music, which I caught for review in an early, unfinished form. Rough but ready. Whether they are individually gay or straight is pretty much beside the point when Alexander, David, Felipe, Glenn, Ray and Randy start breaking things up with an exhilarating filmed version of their hit single Y.M.C.A., plus a showstopper called Liberation and other disco-tempo happenings by composer Jacques Morali, creator of the Village People. "This is the Eighties, darlin'...you're gonna see a lot of things you never saw before." That's the film's keynote speech, delivered by Valerie Perrine with all the aplomb of a definitive Seventies sex symbol who has every intention of keeping up with these fast-changing times.
All That Jazz Musical--and hospital--beds played with Broadway rhythm by Roy Scheider in Bob Fosse's autobiographical extravaganza. Upgraded, because it looks even better the second time around. [rating]4 bunnies[/rating]
All That Jazz: Mayor Tom Bradley of Los Angeles has proclaimed May 23--June 22 Playboy Jazz Festival Month--and for good reason. A reprise of last year's successful bash, this time around there will be nine free concerts, two film nights and a two-day Jazz and Art Fair. Among the stellar participants, old guard and new, will be Benny Goodman, Mel Tormé, Buddy Rich and his orchestra, McCoy Tyner Quintet, Ray Brown, Ruby Braff, Shelly Manne, Bob Crosby, Chick Corea and friends, Herbie Hancock's All-Stars, Dizzy Gillespie, the Toshiko Akiyoshi--Lew Tabackin Big Band, Carmen McRae, the Stephane Grappelli Quartet--plus a battle of the saxes featuring Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis, Arnett Cobb, Zoot Sims, Richie Cole and the Nat Pierce Trio. And the traditional much, much more.
George Jones: 1. Tom T. Hall / Old Side of Town. 2. Tammy Wynette / Take Me to Your World. 3. Leon Payne / I Love You Because. 4. Hank Williams / You Win Again. 5. The Kendalls / Heaven's Just a Sin Away.
The movie "10" made a star not only of Bo Derek but also of Maurice Ravel's Bolero. There are 40 versions of the full Bolero in the catalog; we tested a number and while the strict rhythm of the piece precludes your breaking into a bossa-nova bounce halfway through, you might find Georg Solti with the Chicago Symphony (London: 14:40) most appealing. Not only does his principal oboe send chills down your back (not inappropriately) but the following piece, Debussy's Afternoon of a Faun, isn't a bad postcoital work.
Reeling and Rocking: Queen is writing and performing music for the Dino De Laurentiis film Flash Gordon.... Urban Cowboy, starring John Travolta, opens any minute with a sound track that includes The Eagles, Linda Ronstadt, Bonnie Raitt, Joe Walsh and Mickey Gilley (at whose joint near Houston the movie takes place).... Neil Young is currently working with Dean Stockwell and Dennis Hopper on the long-awaited film Human Highway.
Idol Gossip: Can Bo Derek really act, or is she just another pretty face? Her next film, A Change of Seasons, ought to provide at least a clue to this pressing controversy. A comedy about extramarital affairs, the flick teams Bo with seasoned pros Shirley MacLaine and Anthony Hopkins. Hopkins plays a college professor who dallies with one of his students (Bo). When his wife (MacLaine) finds out, she suddenly becomes wildly liberated and responds by shacking up with a young carpenter (Michael Brandon). Confrontations inevitably erupt when the foursome decides to vacation together at a ski lodge. Those close to the film claim it's more than just a bedroom farce, that although it began as strictly a comedy, it's taken on "contemporary overtones." As to whether or not Bo can act, says co-star Hopkins: "She's a good actress now and has the potential to be a very good actress." The film's due out late this year.... Producers of Star Trek--The Motion Picture are considering a sequel. Apparently, Trek stars William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy are not averse to the possibility if the script is up to par.... Ray Charles plays the owner of a south-side Chicago music store/pawnshop in The Blues Brothers .... As for the latest on Mel Brooks's History of the World Part I, I hear he's talking about shooting the Roman Empire sequence at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas. Dom DeLuise portrays Emperor Nero, Richard Pryor is Josephus.
By all rights, Garry Trudeau's Zonker Harris--he of the Olympic Tanning Team--should be here giving expert testimony. But since both he and George Hamilton are occupied elsewhere [Hamilton on page 162], it falls to me to provide a brief Baedeker to the best beaches in the United States.
My wife and I recently separated after eight years of marriage. During that period, we had a satisfying, adventurous sex life; and, as an amateur photographer, I compiled an album of tasteful Playboy-type nude photos of my wife, as well as some shots of a more explicit, hard-core nature. In addition, about two years ago, while vacationing on the West Coast, we rented a sophisticated video-tape system for the weekend and produced about an hour and 20 minutes of simply outstanding action. When my wife left in a rage, I remember thinking how lucky I was to have preserved some record of what were for me some very good times. Since then, however, I have received a strong threat from her that unless I turn over the photo album and the video tape, she will make big trouble for me in our divorce and financial settlement. I never bothered to get a model release signed. Under these circumstances, what are my rights and what are hers?--A. S., Topeka, Kansas.
Art is the mirror to man's soul. And the dance is a most beautiful art; it contains beauty of both form and movement. For its protection of the arts and the Constitution, the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts is to be applauded for its artful decision in the 1979 case of Commonwealth vs. Plank, in which it upheld the right of citizens of the commonwealth to dance nude.
Olympic Stadium, Montreal, July 30, 1976. Evening was settling over the second and final day of the XXI Olympiad's decathlon competition, a brutal ten-event test of all-round athletic skill. With one event to go, Bruce Jenner knew that a half-decent time in the 1500 meters would break his own world's decathlon record. Indeed, his 8618 points would be his third world record in the past 12 months. Following the ghost of Jim Thorpe and the spirits of Bob Mathias and Rafer Johnson, the 26-year-old Jenner knew he had a gold medal cinched, that six years of ascetic training had come to this one moment. Sitting on a bench in the infield, he covered his head with a towel and sobbed, which caught the attention of Leonid Litvinenko, a Soviet decathlete. Litvinenko lifted the towel and peered down at the American. "Bruce," he said in a thick Russian accent, "you going to be millionaire?" Jenner started laughing. Yeah, he was going to be a millionaire, many times over.
<p>Out Beyond the French windows during the day's second sunset, the grass began singing. It had begun as a hum and as it gained in strength, quickly became song. Edward pushed the French windows farther open and stepped out onto the terrace. Lovely there now, with a dark blue like an earth sky. And frightening though it was, the singing, too, was lovely. Melodic, slow-tempoed, a sort of insistent lullaby. In three years here, he had heard about it; this was the first time he had ever heard it. He sipped from the glass of gin in his hand. He was half-drunk and that made it easier to take than it might have been. An enormous plain of dark grass lay before him in twilight, motionless, singing. No one knew the language. But it was clearly a language.</p>
The Beach is a great place to beat the heat. And it's the only corner of the world where you can indulge yourself in full public view. Treat your eyes--watch the stripped-down version of those lovely bodies you wondered about all winter. Treat your body--let the hydro and solar therapy get at your uptight muscles and clogged pores. Treat your mind--vacate the premises completely. Ponder questions like, "When does a wave decide to break?" or "What exactly is a freckle?" (The answers are inside.) Admittedly, there are risks in beach partying--so read this and you'll know what's good for you. One early word of caution: Wearing lots of bright, reflective jewelry can get you in trouble with sharks. So if you must swim with Sammy Davis Jr., try to do it in the pool at Caesars Palace.
My arrival in Honolulu could hardly have been less auspicious. Oh, the plane landed on time, and the requisite lei was duly draped around my neck at the airport, but as our car pulled up in front of the hotel, the sound of shots was heard echoing through Waikiki's concrete canyons.
Money is in deep trouble. People here and abroad don't trust it to keep its value. They try to exchange it for tangible goods as fast as they can--for gold, silver, land, condominiums, diamonds, art works, antiques, almost anything real.
At a very dry time in a very shaky writing career, I was working as a waiter at a swanky restaurant at the top of the World Trade Center, hating it thoroughly, wearing a uniform and being treated like some kind of culinary marine. I couldn't stand the fact that I wasn't sitting there dining with an adoring woman (give her long blonde hair for the hell of it and wide, alarmingly trusting green eyes), instead of worrying about whether or not some furious dentist were going to put me down because the Béarnaise sauce was not the way he'd had it (just a month ago, Helen) in Paris. From the huge windows of the restaurant, one Saturday afternoon, I saw, 1000 or so feet below, a glacier-white ocean liner making its slow, stately progress out of the harbor. I had never traveled on a big ship like that, but staring down, imagining the beautifully dressed strollers on the upper decks, I thought, fairly desperately, That's where I belong. What the hell am I doing here?
One of the first things you notice about Teri Peterson (that is, if you can shift your attention from her big, bewitching brown eyes) is the way she is dressed. It's a difficult style to categorize--she seems to favor colorful, loose, low-cut tops, leg-hugging Spandex pants and short cowboy boots. Or very short dresses. Very sexy, very stylish, very New Wave, always unconventional. And arresting as hell. We once saw her part the traffic on Sunset Boulevard with the ease of Moses directing tides in the Red Sea. "I really do enjoy creating my own fashions," she tells us, "a style that's different, my very own, and sort of a mixture of wild and conservative. I like looking somewhat bizarre, because I really don't care what people think." A native of California, one of four daughters ("All my sisters are beauties"), Teri likes to pick up on changing styles and trends--after all, California is the trend capital of the world. "I admit it," she says candidly. "I like to get into fads. But I generally pick and choose: Certain fads appeal to me, others don't. I didn't get too deeply into roller skating, but I did go for disco and now I'm into New Wave--Blondie, The Pretenders, the B-52's. I like the beat and the sort of defiant attitude of the lyrics. I wonder what'll be next." Next on Teri's agenda are two all-consuming goals--first, to one day grace the cover of Vogue ("It's my favorite magazine. The fashions are terrific and the graphics are so, so stylish") and, second, to become a model and a fashion designer in Paris, so that someday her own personal style may become the trend. All of which is quite ambitious for a girl who admits to having had problems with shyness throughout most of her life. "I've always been exceedingly shy," she tells us. "When I was younger, I didn't think I was good-looking; I was left out a lot, too, so I became somewhat withdrawn, you might say. I'm gradually getting over it, though, but I still tend to be a bit shy when I meet people." Some of that may also stem from the fact that Teri comes from an extremely close-knit family, and with three sisters all approximately her age, she never had a real need to seek other close friendships. "My younger sister and I still go out together a lot," she says. "She's 19, so we're pretty much into the same things. Plus, she's just starting to become a model herself, so we've got a lot in common." A family trip to Tahiti--on Christmas of 1978--awakened Teri to the excitement of travel, and one of her dreams is to satisfy her wanderlust. "The first thing I plan to do with my new-found wealth, thanks to Playboy, is invest in some real estate," she tells us. "And the second thing is travel, travel, travel!" Wherever she goes, we're certain she'll be going in style.
For years, the demands made on me by the nymphomaniac I was unlucky enough to marry were insatiable and exhausting," the man told the psychiatrist. "My wife was a sexual devil! But now, suddenly, she's become just about frigid. Have you encountered such a situation before, doctor?"
Let's assume that you are going to be in a major air crash. Just hypothetically, based on what we know about major air crashes. Say you and your wife are going on your vacation on Western Airlines flight 2605, a DC-10 that leaves Los Angeles for Mexico City, due to arrive at 6:05 a.m. Mexico City time. You roar down the runway and experience the thrill of lift-off. The basin is beautiful at night, even in the orange haze, and you admire the surreal lights as the sleek aircraft climbs over the ocean.
Cocktails at Poolside. A moonlight stroll along the beach. Dinner on the terrace by candlelight. Summer evenings are special, a time for dressing up without the rigidness of black tie. Depending on the level of formality, often the elegant simplicity of a soft silk shirt will suffice when worn with style and nonchalance--as our models have done on these pages, photographed in the fading afternoon light on the romantic island of Bermuda. It's summertime--and the living is easy. So are the clothes.
The first time I saw an adult penis. I was very young, perhaps around three. My father was a prudish and private person. He didn't allow me to follow him into the bathroom the way my mother did. He never let me watch him take a bath or shower, as she did. One Sunday morning, I walked into the living room. My father, who seemed enormous, was in his bathrobe. He was holding a cup of coffee, his elbow on the window sill. Suddenly, the bathrobe swung open. My eyes went directly to his member. He rapidly closed his robe. My eyes had shifted almost immediately, anyway--I didn't want to appear to stare--yet not before I saw it: a (continued on page 179)Perspectives on the Penis(continued from page 151) trefoil of three large dangling pieces of flesh. It wasn't until I was an adolescent and saw a penis again in a different context that I recalled that image and changed my idea that men had three penises.
Since we published that inspirational layout on Bo Derek, star of the movie "10," in March, many people have written to us, asking, "Playboy, how do I go about finding a perfect 10?" For an answer to that pressing question, we solicited the services of Dudley Moore, who in the movie demonstrates his singular persistence in the pursuit of the perfect 10, and thus ought to know by now how to go (text concluded on page 234)The Perfect 10(continued from page 152) about it properly. We were not disappointed. Says Dudley:
In the time of Louis XII, there was a lady in Languedoc who had a fair face, a most shapely form, an income of more than 4000 ducats--and, alack, no urge whatever to enjoy them. She had married very young and her husband had died shortly after, leaving her one son. All of her waking hours were a long sorrow.
With his new movie, "Zorro, the Gay Blade," about to be released, George Hamilton met with free-lancer John Calendo at the Polo Lounge in the Beverly Hills Hotel. The actor was dressed in a Western-style suit--"the kind of thing you'd wear in Texas," said Calendo, "if you had money."
This here's th' peein' contest. Next is wrasslin'. The fartin' contest comes after the bean n' hawg roast.It ain't so much the output as the intake.I near drank flem's well dry, fillin' up fer this event--
Did you ever stop to wonder where you get spare parts for a 200-ton jet? When the mechanic stands on the ramp, watching Skydrol hydraulic fluid pour out of his spit-polished L-1011, where does he go to find a seven-dollar hydraulic fitting to get the beast aloft once more? The answer is not simple, but it is a clearly defined process. Air World Publications, for example, puts out a book called Military Standards. It contains drawings for certain types of parts. You take the part off the airplane and look at the numbers on it. Then you look up the numbers in that book. You'll find a drawing of the part and a decoding of the markings on the part, which tell such things as the type and strength of the material used in making it so that it won't melt or crack in flight. Listed there, also, is a "procurement specification." You look up the procurement spec and learn such things as the criteria of quality for the part. And then there is the Qualified Products List (Q.P.L.). That tells you which companies have been certified to make that part and sell it for installation on aircraft. It may look like an ordinary fitting you could buy in a hardware store--same size, same color, same threads. But it's not. It's special. It's supposed to fly.
The hottest news for the summer is that adjustable baseball-type caps sporting a multitude of logos have become the status lids to own. True, they may be emblazoned with someone else's company name, but people usually sport a cap that also says something about their own prowess or interests. Some caps you can buy, some you have to trade for and some are so rare that you'll probably have to steal one off a lucky owner's head. The ladies flip for these lids, too.
In the paradoxical manner that frequently characterizes the movements of fashion, a sense of high-spiritedness has emerged at a time when economic circumstances would seem to dictate otherwise. In fact, a whole new men's (or at least young men's) category of fashion has appeared that might be called play clothes. Just as nearly everyone is dancing, skating and partying like there's no tomorrow, so have designers come up with outrageous styles to satisfy our fantasies. Fashion pundits who would have us dressing for success (usually in styles similar to what an undertaker recommends for the laying out) consider such play clothes as dressing for excess. Fortunately, wit, humor, comfort and ease are proving irrepressible elements in at least a part of our wardrobes. Besides, you might be picked to appear on American Bandstand.
Sure, you can jog for miles or join a health club to stay in shape for the beach, but many guys prefer to keep trim at home using equipment that can quickly be stashed out of sight in a closet. (Who wants his pad to look like Vic Tanny's?) And having exercise/body-building apparatus on hand makes it easier to establish a routine--say, early in the morning or just after getting home from the office--in familiar surroundings, where you can work out to TV or music, if you choose. Of course, once you've purchased some stashable exercise gear, such as what's pictured here, you'll probably want to invite someone over who's into keeping her body in great shape, too. Who knows? Neither of you may ever make it to the beach.
"The Abiding Mystery of Ronald Reagan"--The nomination is all but wrapped up. How did that happen, and what's he all about? A keen political observer from California gives us a close-up look at the ex-left-wing movie actor turned right-wing presidential candidate--By Robert Scheer