This one is a magazine to wallow in, gentlemen. Go directly to our pictorial on Playmate of the Year Karen Velez, photographed by Contributing Photographers Arny Freytag and Richard Fegley. Once you've got your testosterone pumping, you'll probably enjoy the earthy hint of man-to-man violence so politely conveyed between Marvelous Marvin Hagler and Thomas "Hitman" Hearns in 20 Questions. Frequent Playboy contributor Lawrence Linderman interrogated the two all-serious pugilists a few weeks before their scheduled middleweight championship bout.
Playboy, (ISSN 0032-1478), May, 1985, Volume 32, Number 5. Published Monthly by Playboy, Playboy Building, 919 North Michigan Avenue, Chicago, Illinois 600611. Subscriptions: In the United States and its possessions, $54 for 36 issues, $36 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 80322, and allow 45 days for change. Marketing: Ed Condon, Director/Direct Marketing; Jack Bernstein, Circulation Promotion Director. Advertising: Charles M. Stentiford, Advertising Director; Joe Mangione, Advertising Promotion Director; Jeffrey Kleinman, Craig Vander Ploeg, Senior Associate Managers; Jay Remer, National Alcoholic Beverages Marketing Manager; Brian Van Mols, National Automotive Marketing Manager, 747 Third Avenue, New York, New York 10017; Linda Malanga, Chicago Manager, 919 North Michigan Avenue, Chicago, Illinois 60611; 3001 West Big Beaver Road, Troy, Michigan 48084; Los Angeles 90010, Stanley L. Perkins, Manager, 4311 Wilshire Boulevard; San Francisco 94104, Tom Jones, Manager, 417 Montgomery Street.
If you're an executive, you know that sitting in an office can be a bore sometimes. Consider: It's 2:30 P.M., you're fresh from a three-martini lunch and you don't have any work to do, or you just don't feel like doing any of the work that's littering your desk. So what do you do? Tap a pencil listlessly on your desk? Wander down the hall to make flirtatious chitchat with one of the secretaries? What you need is some mental stimulation to help you kill the remaining time. Your own office contains all of the ingredients for a gaggle of entertaining games that will help you get through those slow and lazy days.
They don't build 'em like they used to--books, I mean. Back in the good old days, the 12th or 13th Century, say, every single one was made by hand, usually written on sheepskin or some other animal hide. These suckers were made to last. But then in the 15th Century came Gutenberg, with his movable type, and linen paper to replace animal skins. Things have been sliding downhill ever since. The 18th Century accelerated the decline with the discovery of how to make cheap paper from wood pulp, which has a high acid content and eventually burns itself up, turning first brittle and then to yellow dust. The 19th and 20th centuries added still more cheapo know-how. All this was great for democratizing learning, but books these days unfortunately tend to self-destruct.
Mr. Blackwell described the band as a Mardi Gras nightmare and placed Twisted Sister on his worst-dressed list this year. We assume he really meant Twisted's lead singer and chief glamor puss, Dee Snider, above. How does Dee achieve his distinctive look? He told us he owes it all to his wife, Suzette, who does his make-up, hair and clothes. Nice work, Suzette.
Waite and see: When we phoned John Waite, he was doodling at the piano in his New York apartment. He responded to questions by alternating between giggles and phrases on the piano. And why not? Since Missing You saturated the airwaves last summer, all of popdom has been wondering what he'll do for an encore. We had expected something a little slicker, though--perhaps a few strings.
Life After Trivial Persuit: Before there was Evita the play, there was Evita the record. The same with Jesus Christ Superstar. Now the lyricist for both, Tim Rice, is hoping the formula will yield the same results with his newest project, Chess (RCA). Only this time, he has changed partners. When Andrew Lloyd Webber, his Evita and Superstar collaborator, left to work with others, Rice hooked up with Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus, better known as half of the Swedish rock conglomerate ABBA. Since joining forces, the trio has produced 18 songs that tell the story of a Russian chess player who wants to defect, his self-centered American opponent and Florence, the woman who works for the American but falls in love with the Russian. "None of the three of us is a particularly avid player," Rice comments. "It's just that the game provides a perfect metaphor for international drama and intrigue."
After ten years of legal hassles and writer's block, the man behind Creedence Clearwater Revival's pop-a-billy hit machine is back and in fine form. Simplicity was always a Creedence virtue, and on Centerfield (Warner), John Fogerty has stripped down his gut-bucket swamp rock to its incandescent essence. The Old Man Down the Road distills the best of Green River and Born on the Bayou, while I Saw It on TV and Mr. Greed update and deepen the message behind Who'll Stop the Rain and Fortunate Son. And believe it or not, Rock and Roll Girls is a rocker with a yodel that works. Look out, Bruce; the old Boss is back.
Quote of the month: Blackie Lawless, the bandleader of W.A.S.P., on surprising an audience: "I think musical change is important, but that is not to say we're going to be doing folk music.... Hell, the closest thing we're gonna get to folk music is dragging Peter, Paul and Mary out on stage and beating the hell out of them." And people pay money for this?
Only in England, where the mad Monty Python roams, would anyone be likely to produce a comedy as deliciously eccentric as A Private Function (Island Alive). The Pythons' own Michael Palin co-stars with Maggie Smith and a pig named Betty (as herself). Pignaping is the almost indescribable subject. The time is postwar Britain, 1947, with a royal wedding (Elizabeth's) imminent and all the elders of an English village plotting to celebrate the event with a feast of black-market pig, food rationing be damned. Palin and Smith play a local chiropodist and his social-climbing wife, who steal the pig, drive it home but can't quite manage to butcher the poor creature in their own front parlor. The pig is also flatulent, by the way, having been stuffed with table scraps--and God knows how I am going to convince anyone that a movie full of pig-fart jokes is simultaneously hilarious, droll, stylish and even tasteful. The two stars, ably abetted by Denholm Elliott, do their inimitable small miracles for director Malcolm Mowbray, who even squeezes a bit of social relevance from Alan Bennett's screenplay--some sly digs about the class system and what people will do for a choice piece of pork. "It's not just pork, Gilbert--it's power," declares Maggie in her best Lady Macbeth manner. Private Function is already a large hit in London, and if you have read this far, you're probably one of that slaphappy breed who will understand why.
Idol Gossip: Fairies, goblins, pixies, elves, unicorns and leprechauns will populate the screen in Legend, director Ridley Scott's first film since Blade Runner.Tom Cruise has been set to star as Jack o' the Green in this mythical fantasy about the eternal struggle between the forces of darkness and light.... Michael Keaton will play a Chicago hockey star who falls in love with Maria Conchita Alonso after being mugged by her son in Universal's Touch and Go.... Loretta Swit, Dick Shawn and Rip Torn will top-line Orion's Beer, a satire of the advertising business in which a lady ad exec devises an innovative campaign featuring three average guys who become overnight sensations. Beer will be directed by Patrick Kelly, a New York commercial director whose Federal Express ads have won numerous awards.... John(Deliverance)Boorman will direct Powers Boothe and Meg Foster in Embassy Pictures' The Emerald Forest, based on the true adventures of an American youth (played by Boorman's son Charley) who is abducted by jungle Indians at the age of six and grows up to be a brave warrior in the rain forests of Brazil.... Glenn Close, Mandy Patinkin, Ruth Gordon, Barnard Hughes and Valerie Curtin head the cast of Orion's Maxie, a Forties-style comedy about a feisty Twenties movie star (Gordon) who returns from the dead to inhabit the body of a prim-and-proper wife (Close). The flick is based on the novel Marion's Wall, by Jack Finney.
Talk about your pressure shots in golf! Only moments ago on video tape, this was Severiano Ballesteros--ankledeep in quicksand, the green more than 260 yards away, the wind dead against him as it howls in off the ocean here at the rugged but scenic Realtor's Swamp Country Club. Not a very hopeful situation for the two-time winner of the Masters, but watch what happens, golf fans! The determined Spaniard takes a lusty swing with his three wood and--splat! The shot rises above the tall, protruding palms. It clears the hotel and spa. It clears the teeming hordes of hotpants and halter tops in the gallery. Good bounce across the cart path--and on the green! And now, as the drama continues to unfold, Seve Ballesteros has this birdie putt of about 27 and a half feet to go eight under through nine holes and grab the lead in today's fourth and final round of the 1985 Franchot Tone National Pro--Comedian, Singer, Car Dealer, Estate Planner and Bank of Kowloon Knitwear Classic!
I'd been on snowshoes for five days when I saw the deer. It was very alert and it seemed amused. I looked like one worn and tired humanoid, which is what I was. I'd been running and hiding, slipping and sliding, for the better part of a week. There were people after me, too, and the object of the exercise was to see whether or not I could survive the Marine Corps survival training in the High Sierras in January without being captured or frozen.
The women I know are talking about men again. For a few years we tried not to, tried to confine our chats to work, clothes, kids and politics, felt that in some way it was de trop or passé to discuss the fellows. Possibly, we were afraid of appearing weak and dependent to our peers, all of whom seemed to have it totally together. But now that the confessing mode is back in style, we find we're all just as fogged as we always were about the same old question: What do women want? We still don't know. Listen to us try to find out.
Reg and I have been disagreeing for a while on how I ought to tell the story of his bar. I do a version and read it to him and he says, "Naa. It's too sad that way. It can't be more than about 49 percent sad. You have to get the Bogart moments in there, the good times." It's been a hard balance to capture. One moment he says he'd probably do it again, then he remembers the bad parts and says that although the whole thing was a very high trip for a while, he couldn't recommend it to anybody. I keep trying to tell him that if you spin true stories the way they ought to be spun, it's impossible to tell winning from losing, but I don't think he's buying it.
While browsing through the December Playboy Advisor, I came upon the letter from S.R. in Atlanta. The gentleman seems to have a deep (pun intended) concern for assigning a label to his girlfriend's propensity for fellatio. Perhaps I may offer a personal observation that will help explain why some women adore going down on their favorite man. My boyfriend has also accused me of preferring fellatio to "regular" sex--but with no complaints about the frequency. I like going down on him because my mouth is more sensitive than my vagina. I can simply feel more of what is happening with his delicious cock as he becomes more and more aroused. My hands are free to do what they will to add to the pleasure, and he is in a very comfortable and relaxing position. I become very excited knowing that he is having such a good time. The greatest part of any sex act with him is when he ejaculates. When he is cradled in my mouth, I get the full pleasure of every muscle contraction and all the sweetness of the bone, too. Since the mind is the biggest sex organ of the body, I would advise S.R. to talk with his girlfriend about her pleasure in performing fellatio. He may find that her description will be an even bigger turn-on. Then he should tell her what he likes about the things they do in bed. Forget the labels and enjoy!--Miss S. D., Minneapolis, Minnesota.
John Wayne must be spinning in his grave: Shucks. It was bad enough to have that Michael Jackson fella singin' all high-pitched and squeaky, but at least he was Amurrican. Then along comes this British, uh, person wearin' braids an' dresses an' lip rouge an' eye liner an' God knows what else, for God's sake. What the hell is this? Ol' pal Ronnie Reagan is in the White House in 1985 and we have to put up with this ... pansy stuff?
Everybody knows Vanity--the woman whose name bespeaks indulgence and also sounds like a cologne. As Prince's consort, she led Vanity 6, a sexy trio who dressed in teddies and expressed great enthusiasm, via song, for large male organs. She later went solo with a Motown LP, Wild Animal, and a naughty single, Pretty Mess. Now there's more to the story. Vanity is starring in a new movie, and it's much better than her last one. You say we haven't mentioned the last one? Have you ever heard of Tanya's Island? We thought not. Vanity stars as Tanya. While her screen credit reads D. D. Winters, it's plainly Vanity in the Fay Wray part in a kinky update of King Kong. The plot? Put delicately, Vanity has a, er, touching relationship with a tall, blue-eyed, long-haired ape. At film's end, she and the ape participate in a major but not unpredictable transgression against nature. It's the kind of film you enjoy watching with a roomful of seriously demented or very wicked friends. We wonder why it hasn't become a cult classic.
Dinner for two at your place. No longer just a hasty prelude or wolfed-down afterthought, it is the ultimate intimate repast, a scene setter, a defroster, an event and entertainment in itself. But for the host who eats out more than in, the prospect can be intimidating. With all the ink and air time expended of late on healthful diet and the cuisines nouvelle, nueva and plain new, we expect food to be both inventive and easy on the abused inner man.
I was sitting on the bench in the dugout, watching the last few innings of our last spring-training game at Al Lang Field in St. Petersburg. We were playing the Tigers. Right after the game, the Mets would break camp and fly to Cincinnati to open their 1984 season the next day, against the Reds. I wasn't on the roster. I was still a minor-leaguer in the Mets' organization. I had been throwing the ball well during spring training, striking out a few batters, and the press had been giving me quite a bit of attention. But I figured I would be going to Tidewater, the Mets' triple-A farm team in Virginia. If I pitched well there, maybe the Mets would bring me up to the big leagues after the All-Star break, or next year. I was only 19 years old, so I could be patient.
In a Hancock Park duplex not far from Beverly Boulevard, not far from the Hollywood Hills, not far from a whole block of neon boutiques, there is a little bit of Brookville, Ohio. You ring the bell, the door swings open and from then on, it's girls, girls, girls.
It was on a late-night Libertine Airlines flight that the captain announced, "We'll be landing shortly. Please fasten your seat belts, extinguish your cigarettes and return any female flight attendants to the upright position."
Just when you thought it was safe to hang out in two-tone jeans and antinuke T-shirts, the movers and shakers of international men's fashions in Paris, Rome and Tokyo have returned to their drawing boards, as they do each year, and have given birth to avant looks that will affect styles here in the months ahead. So what are the latest Euro-Nipponese hot lines? Casualwear that is tailored and unconstructed. Full-cut, pleated slacks with narrowing pants legs that end at cuffs or turn up. The hottest colors will be cool: brown, from mocha to beige and cream; stone grays mixed with darker tones; navy and indigo with white. The attitude will be comfortable and loose. Just like you.
It was a year for music, monsters and action. Old pros like Albert Finney and Pat Morita turned in magnificent performances. Newcomers such as Adolph Caesar (as the black technical sergeant and murder victim in A Soldier's Story) were brilliant. An unknown, Dr. Haing S. Ngor, gave the performance of his life in The Killing Fields. But 1984 will be remembered as the year the kids from Saturday Night Live figured out movies. Bill Murray and Eddie Murphy redefined box-office bravado. Ghostbusters, a movie that Columbia executives had thought would do poorly, ate all the other summer films (including two from Steven Spielberg) alive. And as we went to press, Beverly Hills Cop was closing in for the kill. It was a year for comebacks--what can you say when you see two old friends, HAL and Spock, brought back from the dead? And as for Clint Eastwood, well, he pulled a hat trick with Sudden Impact, Tightrope and City Heat.
In a way, Karen Velez is a lot like the Tahiti of myth and history. If you recall, when Fletcher Christian finally got shore leave from nasty Captain Bligh, he found an island of startling natural beauty--and beauties who were startling in their openness, in their lack of guile or pretense. That's Karen. She's only a visitor to Tahiti, but there's no coyness, no affectation about her. She's as direct as sunlight in the South Pacific. Reading between her lines will just give you a headache: She says what she means and, more than that, she is what she appears to be. You may find it hard to believe from the photographs on these pages, but Karen doesn't care a lot about her physical appearance. Not that she doesn't realize there's a reason men stop dead in their tracks when they see her. It's always just ... a pleasant surprise. Looks, in Karen's case, are a bonus, like the brightly colored wrapping on a Christmas present. Her focus is inward. "When I was picked for Playmate of the Year, I was flabbergasted. 'You guys want me?' " Even then, it took a long time to sink in--though part of that may have been our fault. "I was told, 'Karen, you're shooting for Playmate of the Year.' They don't tell you you're actually Playmate of the Year until...." She thinks for a second, then realizes, "They've never told me!"
This year's fight of the century will take place on April 15 at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas, where 160-pound middleweight champion Marvelous Marvin Hagler (his legal name) will defend his title against super welterweight king Thomas "Hitman" Hearns. Hagler, a classic boxer, is 5'91/2" tall and has a record of 60 wins, two losses and two draws. Hearns, a classic slugger, is 6'1" tall, also 160 pounds, and has knocked out 34 opponents en route to 40 victories and just one defeat (to Sugar Ray Leonard four years ago). Interviewer Lawrence Linderman reports: "Marvin Hagler is boxing's answer to Rodney Dangerfield--he gets no respect, or at least that's what he thinks. Hearns, who's almost majestically serene, regards his right hand the way King Arthur regarded Excalibur--and, based on past results, that assessment may not be too far off the mark."
If Lying on a beautiful beach with the right woman is all the adventure you're looking for, worry not. Suddenly, couples' resorts are the hottest thing going. Of late, oases à deux, enclaves where romantic sun worshipers are provided with surroundings calculated to inspire sighs and serenity, are popping up all over the Caribbean.
There was a time when the word vacation meant only abiding sloth and the most stressful holiday activity was lying beside the sea, scratching your stomach. Athletics were restricted to raising a glass to your lips or pushing your chair away from the dinner table. Exertion was all but unknown.
Forget About reserving an airline seat in advance. Most of the time, that guarantees very little, since passengers on most flights must arrive at the gate at least 30 minutes (sometimes more) in advance of departure to hold a seat reservation. A far better strategy is to actually stick your head into an airline ticket office (or some travel agents' offices) and secure a boarding pass for your flight. Once a boarding pass has been issued, airline computers show you as checked in, and you own the seat you desire. This is also the best insurance against getting bumped off an overbooked flight and should be a standard procedure prior to any air travel undertaken at peak holiday times.
In the beginning, there was laser video, that technological miracle that brought glitch-free prerecorded images to the small screen. Then came audio compact discs--to many, the laser's edge in sonics. Now Pioneer has taken the next step and consummated the marriage of sight and sound with the CLD-900 Compact Disc/LaserVision Player, a new unit that joins both media, thus saving shelf space while enabling you to use your video screen for indexing audio tracks. A bowl of popcorn, a stein of beer, thou and your Disc/LaserVision, with its wireless remote in Your hand. In this audio/video heaven, only the strong will survive.
As a kid, you sweated and saved, collecting empty a bottles and taking them back to the store for two a cents apiece, so that one summer day you could a park your butt on that fine red Schwinn in the window. You sliced the wind for a summer or two, and then what happened? You forgot the two-wheeler and went looking for eight cylinders. When you grew up, you let them put a shield between you and the wind. No more no-handed runs for late-night pizza No more long-legged girls who knew all the softest, quietest places deep in the woods. No more groin burn, either, but where's the romance in EPA mileage and collision insurance? Well, bunky, while you've been racing the rats on four wheels, bike manufacturers have been gearing up for your return to the fold by coming up with some bold and ballsy new two-wheel designs. One of these babies, in fact, does tricks even Evel Knievel never tried. (It's actually a combination bicycle/unicycle capable of supertight turns--backward and forward--and rapid slalom cycling. Why should circus clowns have all the fun?) Another one can outspeed a compact car--lat least that's what we've been told. Then there's one set of wild two-wheels with a unique power stroke that gives you such an expanded range of drive ratios, it would take a 29-speed conventional bike to duplicate it. So start pedaling. You can never forget how to ride--it's like sex.