One of the questions most commonly asked of us, as Playboy editors, by men we've just met at Christmas parties is often phrased as a statement: "I bet you guys work in an office with dozens of beautiful women." That's usually followed by the half-joking request "Do you think you can line me up with a Bunny?" Our response to both questions is customarily no, but actually, that's the correct answer to the second question only. We can't even line ourselves up with a Bunny (Oryctolagus cuniculus Playboyus to the zoologists in the audience). As for the first question: Well, we've fudged it, because we've always figured that if word got out of how many beautiful women actually work for Playboy Enterprises, our Personnel Department would be swamped with applicants for our jobs. But this year, in the Christmas spirit of sharing, we've decided to give our readers a chance to appreciate the reasons why male Playboy employees rarely find office elevator rides boring. Contributing Photographer Ken Marcus, aided by make-up artist Alison Reynolds, conducted our in-house beauty hunt and (with some cajoling in many cases) persuaded some of our most comely co-workers to pose for The Women of Playboy. When you turn to page 132, you'll probably mutter, "Some guys have all the luck," and we know how you feel. That's the way we feel about Marcus, who photographed not only Playboy's most attractive women but this month's Playmate, Charlotte Kemp, as well. And while we're on the subject of beautiful people, we have our annual review, Sex Stars of 1982, compiled by West Coast Photography Editor Marilyn Grabowski, Senior Editor Gretchen McNeese, Senior Art Director Chet Suski and Assistant Photography Editor Patty Beaudet. The text is by Jim Harwood. As a special holiday treat, we've provided you with the means of casting everybody's favorite star of 1982, E.T., in some new roles.
Playboy, (ISSN-1478), December, 1982, Volume 29, Number 12. Published monthly by Playboy, Playboy Bldg., 919 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill. 60611. Subscriptions: In the United States and its possessions, $54 for 36 issues, $38 for 24 issues, $22 for 12 issues. Canada, $27 for 12 issues. Elsewhere, $35 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; Michael Druckman, New York Sales Manager; Milt Kaplan. Fashion Advertising Manager, 747 Third Avenue. New York, New York 10017; Chicago 60611, Russ Weller. Associate Advertising Manager. 919 North Michigan Avenue; Troy, Michigan 48084, Jess Ballew. Manager, 3001 W. Big Beaver Road: Los Angeles 90010, Stanley L. Perkins, Manager, 4311 Wilshire Boulevard; San Francisco 94104, Tom Jones, Manager, 417 Montgomery Street.
In the dark ages before the pill and penicillin, man's sexual impulse was held in check by three fears: those of pregnancy, venereal disease and exposure. Science eliminated the first two and experience took care of the third. The world was made safe for pleasure. Or so we thought. But we seem to have underestimated the idiocy out there.
It started out as an experiment: Could I program my home computer to make up jokes? Since it has the ability to choose numbers at random, I decided to let my TRS-80 sort through a stack of nouns, verbs and other parts of speech to put together sentences and phrases of its own invention. One thing I learned was that it can turn out 3000 one-liners per hour. You might expect a computer to come up with scientific jokes such as "Take my temperature, please!" but that wasn't the way it turned out.
The Playboy Interview has a way of taking on a life of its own--if you don't believe us, ask Jimmy Carter. But the latest interview-spawned headline epidemic has turned into a full-fledged treasure hunt, sending art historians, TV anchor men and newspaper correspondents on the trail of a nude statue for which Bette Davis told Playboy she had posed as a teenager.
But down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. . . ." That's the standard for fictional private eyes set by Raymond Chandler in 1944. Since then, his Philip Marlowe and Dashiell Hammett's Sam Spade and The Continental Op have all gone on the big sleep. And their successor, world-weary Lew Archer, has been retired by the ill health of his creator, Ross MacDonald. Which raises the question: Who's minding today's mean streets?
Is it live or is it . . . ?: "People are conditioned by TV and movies to be observers, to sit in the dark and hide. Sometimes, you have to shake people into realizing that something's alive. Liveness is so unusual." Daryl Hall was explaining why, in concert, the Daryl Hall and John Oates band likes to throw a little light--a klieg light--on its audience, frequently for the length of a song. That and the shocking discovery that those fashionable fellows on the record jackets actually jump around, howl, moan and sweat act as potent catalysts to the people in the seats. In no time, they're bouncing in their seats and responding to Hall's call on Sara Smile.
When you hear the name Santana, Latin percussion and African rhythms start throbbing in your head. As usual, on Shango (Columbia), Carlos Santana pays proper homage to his Latin roots and his jazz interests. This time, on its 14th album, the band is in top shape, especially on such diverse cuts as the title tune and Junior Walker's 1969 gem What Does It Take (To Win Your Love). The reggae ballad Let Me Inside may put you away.
Reeling and Rocking: More Rick James news. His first movie, Spice of Life, goes into production next month--written by, produced by and starring Rick. He also wrote the music. The subject? Sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. . . . Stewart Copeland is keeping busy with other projects until The Police go back on the road. One plan is to write the music for Francis Coppola's next movie, Rumble Fish. . . . It looks as though Rick Springfield will make his movie debut with Traveling Light, co-starring the nearly perfect Nastassia Kinski. . . . The BusBoys have written and are singing some songs in the Nick Nolte--Eddie Murphy film. . . . Jimmy Buffett is going off the road to write the screenplay for Margaritaville and then star in it. . . . John Lydon (who used to be Johnny Rotten) has made a movie in Italy with Harvey Keitel, tentatively called Cop Killer.
A couple of Runyonesque con men from New York try for the jackpot in Las Vegas in Lookin' to Get Out (Paramount). An old story, you may say--Damon Runyon with a touch of human comedy reminiscent of Frank Capra in his prime. Well, what's wrong with that? Back on the fast track on which he came through with such diverse entertainments as Shampoo and Being There, director Hal Ashby has wrought a raffish and rambunctious movie caper that's really more about love and life than about winning and losing. It's wry, it's warm, it's a little bit off the wall, and anyone who thinks it's just too weird will be struck off my Christmas-card list. The biggest surprise Lookin' has to offer is Jon Voight, teamed with Burt Young and playing the pants off his part as the handsome half of this unlikely twosome--an amiable hustler and a congenital liar who is almost too true to be funny. In fact, he's a semischlemiel, which makes the role risky for an actor such as Voight, though Jon gambles and wins with a shaded, complex performance as fine as his Oscar-winning triumph in Coming Home. None of which should be attributed to dumb luck, since Voight is co-author (with Al Schwartz) of the screenplay, and he coproduced the movie.
Idol Gossip: Sam Peckinpah, absent from active film making for at least the past four years, has been tagged to direct the screen adaptation of best-selling author Robert Ludlum's thriller The Osterman Weekend. Dutch actor Rutger (Blade Runner) Hauer will star as the television journalist who uncovers a trail of political intrigue that climaxes in the terror-filled titular weekend. . . . Richard Pryor, who is probably booked until 1990, will top-line The Man Who Would Make Miracles, a contemporary comedy based on an H. G. Wells story about a man with unique powers. . . . Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward will star in The Scandal (formerly titled The Walter Lippmann Story), a two-hour ABC telefilm currently being written by none other than Gore Vidal. . . . Word has it that a biopic of University of Alabama football coach "Bear" Bryant is in the planning stages. . . . Robby Benson will star in Running Brave, the true story of Billy Mills, the Sioux Indian who rose from a reservation to become an Olympic goldmedalist (he won the 10,000-meter run in the 1964 Tokyo games). The film is being completely financed by the Ermineskin Indians of Alberta, and the lead role was filled only after a three-year talent hunt. Benson was chosen because, in the words of producer Ira Englander, "besides looking like Billy, he's the perfect combination of sensitivity, athletic ability and concern for Indian issues." Pat Hingle and Claudia (Diner) Cron co-star.
My question may seem trivial when viewed against the backdrop of more pressing human problems, but it represents a concern of no small importance to me. I am a healthy white male, aged 30, average in most respects. Along with the majority of American men in my age group, I was circumcised shortly after birth. While I realize that the practice of circumcision is not one of the hot issues of our time, I am deeply displeased that I was subjected to that ritual mutilation. The purpose of this inquiry is to determine whether or not it is possible to repair that damage surgically. I have desired such a restoration since my early teens, and my interest has been focused by a description in James Michener's The Source of such cosmetic surgery's being hypothetically performed in pre-Christian times. If such a correction is possible. I would greatly appreciate being informed of the details.--D. J. G., La Jolla, California.
In the past, most of us picked up bits and pieces of sexual lore here and there, the best we could. Has that method changed? We decided to ask the Playmates whether they learned about sex at home, in school, from books or magazines or from friends.
Think of their marriage as "Mary Poppins Meets Godzilla." For more than 20 years, Julie Andrews has been the stage and screen's unchallenged symbol of virginal innocence and vocal clarity. Charming though she may be, Andrews hasn't been a virgin for some time now, and in her husband's two most recent films, she has flashed her breasts ("S.O.B.") and gamboled in male drag ("Victor-Victoria"); but that still hasn't changed the way movie fans feel about her. Writer-producer-director Blake Edwards, Andrews' spouse since 1969, is a multimillionaire thanks to the past three Pink Panther films and " '10'"; but for years, Hollywood placed him in cold storage, and while studio executives diddled, he burned. Still regarded as a glowering inferno, Edwards lived through a crushing period of failure after achieving a solid string of early successes. So did his wife.
A fundamental change has occurred in the U.S. since the election of 1980: Our leaders during the time of Ronald Reagan have come to plan for waging and winning a nuclear war with the Soviet Union, and they are obsessed with a strategy of confrontation--including nuclear brinkmanship--that aims to force the Soviets to shrink their empire and fundamentally alter their society.
Since the point of a midwinter getaway is relaxation, it's odd that so many eager vacationers pack up their troubles with overloaded suitcases that turn the toter into a beast of burden. Of course, how much you stuff into your old kit bag depends on how long you're going to be away and where you're going; nevertheless, there are several short cuts you can take that will help make light work of your great escape. For example, a lightweight, neutrally colored suit that can be worn with a shirt and tie or separately as a jacket and slacks will see you through most social occasions. (In posh tropical resorts, jacket and tie for dinner are often de rigueur.) Add a blazer or a white sports jacket and you have a stylish alternative that can even double as a formal outfit when coupled with a bow tie. One pair of white athletic shoes for sports/casual wear and some medium-to-dark slipons for dressier occasions are all you'll need for footwear. Several pairs of casual slacks and an equal number of shorts (pick the kind that can be worn for both tennis and swimming), plus a number of knit short-sleeved pullovers, finish it up. You get the idea. Go minimal. Think light. Have fun.
I came with good intentions to Howard. I can swear to that. Of course, that was many years ago, in the pioneer days of television, when a minority of households had color sets, when cable was something you subscribed to in order to reduce the number of ghosts on the screen, when the Super Bowl was so young that I could still understand the Roman numerals and when Monday Night Football was so new that Howard did not yet keep statistics on it. We were all younger then: The nation was still at war in Southeast Asia; Watergate was still a high-class residential hotel; Walter Cronkite was still Walter Cronkite. How simple those days now seem.
Next to a soft, pulsating female bod, the niftiest warmer known to man is a steaming, soothing noggin of grog. And there are some who hold that the latter will help you get closer to the former--being an effective heart warmer as well as body warmer. Not long ago, hot drinks were dismissed as quaint amenities that had outlived their usefulness. But the pendulum swings; today, the thermal libation is once again in fashion--but with a significant difference. The heavy cream-, egg- and beer-based mixtures of yore, including wassails, flips and mulled ales, are being replaced with lighter quaffs. The impetus for imbibing is also (continued on page 256) Body Warmers (continued from page 131) different. Elizabethans drank to ward off winter chills and discomforting drafts, or so they alleged. Contemporary bibbers need no justification but a sensuous pleasure and the humanizing aftereffect--known as aglow--these potions impart. Nowhere is the sizzling dram more relished than at bustling ski resorts. Whiffs of cinnamon, apple juice and rum perfume the frosty air, and steaming mugs are as prevalent as ski mittens and tasseled wool hats. Indeed, hot shots are so popular with skiers that the California Brandy Advisory Board sponsored a contest for resort barmen at Harrah's Hotel/Casino at Lake Tahoe, in the High Sierra ski area. Two of the winning drinks are included here.
Playboy enterprises has a new President. And wouldn't you know that male-chauvinist Chairman of the Board Hugh M. Hefner would throw his critics a curve by picking a woman? Not just any woman, mind you, but his own bright, beautiful feminist daughter, Christie. You've probably seen our new Ms. President prominently pictured in a recent issue of Life or Fortune, on the cover of New York or in your own daily newspaper--and that got us to thinking: Why not do a pictorial tribute to the rest of the distaff staffers here at Playboy? Not the beautiful Bunnies or the Playmates who are regularly featured on these pages but the nine-to-five women who work in the Playboy Building in Chicago and their counterparts in our offices in New York and L.A.
Christopher sat on the ground in the pine grove with his back up against a tree and smoked a cigarette that was very badly bent. Christopher carried the pack in his right pants pocket because he thought his mother did not know he smoked, and the cigarettes got crushed when he moved around. Christopher said he was not going to baseball practice.
Charlotte Kemp is good company. Mature beyond her years, she can expound on almost any subject. And when she does, it's with a breathless enthusiasm that can run up to 1000 words per minute. At that speed, some mouths tend to emit pure babble, but not Char's. Even at maximum output, her thoughts are perceptive and pertinent. Born in Omaha 21 years ago, she leapfrogged around the Midwest with her family--to Detroit, Keokuk and Toledo--until she took off for Indiana University. After two years as a psychology major, Char dropped out to pursue a modeling career in Chicago. She found that that notoriously chilly city turned considerably warmer after she had made two early discoveries: her roommate and best friend, October 1975 Playmate Jill De Vries, and her boyfriend, Chicago Bears defensive back Gary Fencik. Now, after almost a year on the Big Shoulders, she's a diehard Chicagoan. "The pace is a lot faster than I'm used to," Char says, "and I just love it. In Chicago, there are a hundred things you can do at any time of day. After I'd been here a month or so, I got depressed, thinking, Oh, this is going to take me over and I'll get lost in the shuffle. But I found you just have to keep up with the pace and, above all, you have to take care of yourself." Char takes care of herself by playing tennis, swimming and running along the picturesque Windy City lake front. When she has to get somewhere fast, she mounts her trusty moped--weather permitting, of course. Currently, she's preparing for even faster transport with flying lessons, soon to be augmented with lessons in parachuting, just in case. Fortunately, her energy level is sustained by her love of food. One of her favorite pauses is in the kitchen, where she's been known to whip up gourmet-quality dishes for friends or, in their absence, for herself. Gregarious and extroverted, Char makes friends quickly. It's a trick she picked up from all those moves during her childhood. "I regret sometimes not having permanent roots, but in each place I've lived, I've made friends I still talk to and write to. I try to write to at least five of them a week." While her future plans include a return to school and possibly some acting, the present holds plenty of interest for her. After all, she's got her sports, cooking, modeling and Fencik. If that's not enough, Char says, "I haven't met half the people that I want to meet."
Get ready. This is going to be the most entertaining, most exciting, most unpredictable--and most confusing--basketball season in the history of the game. There will be, as usual, an ascending number of elevated slam-dunk artists and skipper-quick ball handlers who can't speak third-grade English, but the principal new ingredient will be (get this phraseology) "rules experimentation."
The Perfect Man--for any woman--is the man who loves her constantly; fucks her frequently, passionately and well; adores and admires her; is at once reliable and exciting; Adonis on earth and father figure from heaven; a beautiful son, a steady daddy; a wild-eyed, Bacchic lover and a calm, sober (but still funny) friend. Can you find all those attributes in one man? Not bloody likely! And if you find them, will they endure for all the various passages of your life? Still less likely.
This is not actually a bestiary. It is what people think a bestiary is--namely, an assemblage of vividly imagined beasts that behave somewhat quirkily, bear only the vaguest application to real life and are known mostly as heraldic fixtures. True, the animals of a bestiary (the griffin, the camelopard, the unicorn and so forth) would seem to be the products of lively flights of fancy, but, in fact, a medieval bestiary was a serious scientific work. At least, it was the best that the authorities of those times could do.
Ohio-born Sydne Rome, one of the most popular stars of European films, has just become the first American actress to win a starring role in Soviet cinema. Sydne plays Louise Bryant, lover and wife of John Reed, in the $50,000,000 Mexican-Italian-Russian coproduction of "Ten Days That Shook the World," Reed's account of the Russian Revolution. (That's Sydne, in her Bryant persona, above.) Directed by the eminent Russian director Sergei Bondarchuk, the project took three months and literally a cast of thousands to complete. During that time, Sydne had the opportunity to observe firsthand Russian moviemaking techniques, which at times included the recruiting of genuine Russian generals to give orders to the troops assembled for the picture. She also had the opportunity to study her character in the historic locations where Louise had lived and worked with Reed. For Playboy, Sydne agreed to re-create her movie persona, from Louise's real life in Provincetown to her fantasies about Russia. What follows are her impressions of Bryant and her feelings about this historic opportunity.
I've always loved cars, but from the time I was a boy, I've considered the Rolls-Royce the symbol of ultimate luxury. Like courtly love, it was an idealization living in a rarefied atmosphere only a few privileged mortals could share. To me, a Rolls was the final statement that I had made it.
Brooke Shields came to my New York studio with her mother, Teri. She leaned on my drawing table and looked me straight in the eye, unblinking. There was not a hint of mistrust or defensiveness about her as we talked of travel, art classes, dating and her horse, Cobalt. She was a delightful combination of innocent sophistication, youthful appearance and mature intelligence. She wore no make-up; her color was natural and wholesome. I decided to do the head study first to familiarize myself with her beauty. I switched from charcoal to water colors to sketch the exercises that are part of her daily routine, and suddenly, she changed into a sexy, agile, feline creature, completely different from the schoolgirl who'd sat quietly before me a few minutes earlier. As a student at the school of the Art Institute of Chicago, I had frequently visited John Singer Sargent's life-size nude The Egyptian Girl, painted in 1891. When I met Brooke, I couldn't help comparing her with that painting. Although her body is in the same stance, Sargent's model appears shy, with downcast eyes and palms turned out. My rendering of Brooke shows her eyes forward, hands turned lovingly inward--a portrait of a self-assured, beautiful young lady looking ahead to an adventurous life. This was the first time she had posed for an artist. She said she loved doing it. So did I.
Did you ever hear of the gruesome fateThat befell our heroine, Hookshop Kate?Though now she has passed to the Great Beyond,She was once the queen of the demimonde.She wasn't a beauty for a beauty show,But her talent for jazzing was sheer vertigo!And the one pet brag of Hookshop KateWas she never yet had met her mate.
E.T.--The Extra-Successful: Agent "Swifty" Yoda tells us E.T. just may be in every movie of the Eighties. Want a sneak preview? OK, first tear along the perforations and separate the four cards on the opposite page. Now punch out the faces of those old stars. To really get into it, you might shout, "This looks like a job for (your name)!" when confronting Superman, or, "In your face, muthah!" while punching out Mr. T. If you mess up, go out immediately and buy another Playboy. Place the cards one by one over E.T.'s rugged good looks for our feature presentation. Flip each card for another star turn by E.T. Voilà (French for "Check it out")--the future of the movie business.
It is Sunday in our Dear Motherland, a day whose purpose is defined in section 134 of our much-envied constitution as "productive fun-having and vigilant relaxation," but, Dear Comrades, we put to you a question; is it truly a day of rest for the president of the presidium of the U.S.S.R. Supreme Soviet? "Nyet and nyet and Nyet," you, the masses correctly cry, "For it is well known by working peoples everywhere that the general secretry of the central committee of the communist party fo the soviet union's commitment to his tasks is such that he dedicates even his precious few moments of socialist Leisure to building communism!"
Does your television lose its flavor in the bedroom overnight? Do you often find yourself switching from channel to channel, hoping (ever in vain) to find late-night entertainment with a little more spice than Johnny Carson dressed up as a bag lady or the rampaging reptile in Son of the Thing That Ate New Hampshire? Don't despair. The antidote to your television doldrums is here. Dr. Playboy has just arrived with a potent prescription: the new Playboy Channel, available on more than 180 cable-television systems throughout the country; the Playboy television magazine, available to more than 600,000 over-the-air pay-TV subscribers in ten major cities; and Playboy Video, cassettes and discs that bring you up to 90 minutes of the best of the electronic Playboy, plus special features available only to home-video-cassette and -disc buyers. If you like Playboy magazine, you'll love The Playboy Channel, which brings to life many of the magazine's most popular features: the Playmates, for instance. We do our best in this magazine to convey the personalities of these lovely ladies through photographs and words, but with the added dimensions of movement and sound, our television profiles of Playmates will give you a, shall we say, more well-rounded view.
Merry Christmas! Today, we find our heroes on the planet lt'ae, where they are participating in that most sacred of rituals; The annual star command edge-of-the-universe-patrol office party!But Why Me? Why do I have to be Santa Claus?'Cause you're the Jolliest!
We've had some complaints about the noise up here....We'll try to keep it down.We're workin' at cross-purposes, doc!The Comix scene sucks ever since Fritz the cat died....It's reaganomics.How primitive....The power; the bold, forceful innovativeness; The shock of the new; The--That's not the Rothko Painting, Holistic Harry. That's the window.how Artistic!I don't care if you do give the best head in town--scram!Play your cards right and I'll let you meet Kliban.I haven't met you before. Are you with management?I feel so silly--I thought this was formal?I get no respect!I never score at these parties... I should've stayed in bed.Meet me in fifteen minutes behind the Playboy Party Jokes.
The anchor heaves. The ship swings free. The sails swell full. To sea, To sea.--Tho's beddoes 1830 an ocean cruise sure makes you horny.-Love boat 1982 Annie and Account Exec Benton Battbarton find themselves embarking on a promotion-freebie three-day cruise, lured, like other romantics, by the eternal call of the sea, and some hot TV episodes.
A holiday kiss on your girlfriend's hand may be quite Continental, but come December 26, those same fingers are going to be waving goodbye unless the Santa in her life has something more materialistically endearing in his pack. So, to simplify your Christmas shopping, we've assembled a number of presents perfect for the fair sex. Of course, truly wise men will trade the tree-and-tinsel scene for a Caribbean cruise or a slow train to China. And if the yule present you unwrap looks anything like the lady here, well, God rest ye merry, gentlemen.
The hidebound concept that leatherwear is traditionally black or brown is changing as designers increasingly treat leather as they would a fabric and dye the hides jazzy shades that would eclipse even a Western sunset. Since we're just getting into winter, your wisest move would be to put your money on a light-weight outerwear jacket that will be wearable well into spring. Whether it's the classic short blouson updated with many pockets, the newer longer-waisted blouson or a thigh-length drawstring model, the touch of color adds new sparkle to the skin game. And the looks go as well with sweaters as they do with bow ties.