From What You See on the news, you might think that cops have become as corrupt and brutal as the criminals they've sworn to protect us against. So when New York City police officer Carol Shaya told us about the time she arrested a machete-wielding madman, we were impressed. "I'm proud of what I do and of the way I look," she told us. "I want people to see me in Playboy and forget the stereotypes of female officers." With New York's Finest, shot by Contributing Photographer Stephen Wayda, Shaya has gotten her wish.
Playboy, (ISSN 0032-1478). August 1994. Volume 41. Number 8. Published Monthly by Playboy, 680 North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago. Illinois 60611. Subscriptions: $29.97 for 12 Issues, U.S. Canada, $43.97 for 12 issues. All other foreign, $45 U.S. currency only. For new and renewal orders and change of address, send to Playboy Subscriptions, P.O. Box 2007, Harlan, Iowa 51537-4007. Please allow 6-8 weeks for processing for change of address, send new and old addresses and allow 45 days for change. Postmaster: Send form 3579 to Playboy, P.O. Box 2007, Harlan, Iowa 51537-4007. Advertising: New York 730 Fifth Avenue, New York 10019; Chicago: 680 North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago 60611; West Coast: 9242 Beverly Boulevard, Beverly Hills, CA 90210; Metropolitan Publishers Representatives, Inc.: Atlanta: 3017 Piedmont Road NE, Suite 100, Atlanta, GA 30305; Miami: 2500 South Dixie Highway, Miami. FL 33133; Tampa: 3016 Mason Place. Tampa, FL 33629.
Teeming with the life of the barrio in a Los Angeles neighborhood known as Echo Park, Mi Vida Loca (Sony Classics) wrings poetry from poverty and ethnic angst. In a follow-up to Gas, Food, Lodging, writer-director Allison Anders focuses on the homegirls whose homeboys are soon likely to face long prison terms or death. Beautiful Giggles (Mario Marron), just out of jail herself, smirks when an admirer promises to take care of her. "The last man who said that to me is dead," she tells him. The way Giggles and her sisters look at it, "Guys come and go--they ain't worth it." Two friendly rivals known as Sad Girl (Angel Aviles) and Mousie (Seidy Lopez) bear children fathered by Ernesto (Jacob Vargas), a strutting Romeo whose days are numbered. Drugs, cars and sex color every conversation in a shifting narrative that brings a dozen characters up for close scrutiny. Like them or not, Mi Vida Loca (My Crazy Life) is a poignant and profane slice of street theater. [rating]3-1/2 bunnies[/rating]
He is supposed to keep mum about his role in James Cameron's True Lies--opposite Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jamie Lee Curtis--which opens in mid-July. But Bill Paxton, 38, breaches his vow of secrecy to suggest: "This movie will be a blockbuster. My character is Simon, a guy who gets caught up in the nightmare of his own fantasies." Paxton prefers to discuss his role in a previous Cameron epic, The Terminator. "I was the leader of a punk gang and got to say 'Fuck you' to Arnold."
When it comes to at-home viewing, Dustin Hoffman's picks are as eclectic as the roles he plays. He bounces from French fare such as Forbidden Games and The Children of Paradise to Fellini's 8-1/2 to Bergman's Fanny and Alexander. "I also saw this movie, La Belle Noiseuse," he says, "about a painter and a nude model. He spends the entire movie painting and talking with her. He's clothed and she's nude--he never touches her. It's really sexy." The actor's actor is also partial to memorable performances, such as Charlie Chaplin's in The Gold Rush. "And I just saw De Niro's A Bronx Tale. He did a good job with it." Does Hoffman prefer comedy or drama? "I never could figure out the difference," he says. "Could you?"
Ah, nothing better on a hot summer night than air-conditioning, a loved one and a cheesy monster movie. Among the so-bad-they're-good flicks making disc debuts this summer are Paramount's 1956 Japanese classics Rodan and Godzilla: King of the Monsters, as well as War of the Gargantuas (1970) and Godzilla's Revenge (1971). Or, if you prefer fine American cheese, Orion has released six classics from the granddad of ghoul, Vincent Price. Best double feature: Price's hilarious spin in Master of the World (from the Jules Verne tale) and his priceless poke at Poe in The Masque of the Red Death, directed by Roger Corman. Have fun.
Class begins now. As how-to sex videos infiltrate the market, the Sinclair Institute steals the spotlight with three sex-ed tapes featuring experts, therapists and sexually active couples. Polite but explicit, the vid-triptych includes:
The newest batch of TV-to-tape transfers crosses generational lines. Now replaying on the small screen: All in the Family: The Collector's Edition (Columbia House), Bonanza: The Return (Vidmark), Rawhide and Gunsmoke (CBS Video)--and for real historians, The Jack Benny Collection (MCA/Universal).... Did someone say new Hitchcock? The mystery master's wartime shorts, Bon Voyage and Aventure Malgacher (Milestone, $39.95), were banned by the Brits as inflammatory-- then sat on--back in 1944. Now these musty must-sees are yours. In French, with subtitles.... Buena Vista's The Best of Broadway Musicals features a mother lode of classic numbers performed live on The Ed Sullivan Show. Highlights include Julie Andrews and Richard Burton singing What Do the Simple Folk Do? from Camelot, and Ethel Merman belting out There's No Business Like Show Business from Annie Get Your Gun ($19.99).
Food For Thought Department: Ted Nugent's hunting special, Spirit of the Wild, has run four times during pledge periods on PBS in Michigan. Says Ted, "I'm the only guy who has the balls to kill something on TV and gut it right before your eyes." Pass the popcorn.
"You know the world has passed you by," observed that mouthpiece for over-the-hill America, Andy Rooney, on 60 Minutes, "when your newspaper carries a page-one story about the death of someone you've never heard of." He was referring to Kurt Cobain, whom few would expect the 75-year-old Rooney to know anything about anyway. But Rooney did not stop there. He drove one grizzled foot deep into his mouth while the other kicked Cobain's corpse.
In his seven previous novels, Paul Auster demonstrated that he can write stylish prose. But he was so preoccupied with philosophy that it made those books heavy sledding. In Mr.Vertigo (Viking) there is still plenty to think about, but this breakthrough novel is driven by the power of his storytelling. The tale begins in 1927, when a nine-year-old orphan hustling nickels on the streets of St. Louis is approached by a stranger in a tuxedo and told he can learn to fly. Master Yehudi whisks away young Walt Rawley to a farmhouse outside of Cibola, Kansas and in three years turns him into Walt the Wonder Boy, a showbiz sensation who duplicates the feats of holy men and prophets.
Among the things that make life worth living for some of us wretched souls is the kind of bad (though not evil) behavior that can be roughly characterized as sin. Heaven knows these days that sin--however stylish and satisfying, and despite its generous contribution to the overall texture of that state of grace known as being alive--has fallen into disrepute. Since only a fool would defend it, I volunteered, understanding, of course, that I would be in good company.
Most of us were brought up to believe that the goal of exercise is simply to get stronger. Our childhood hero was Superman, the man of steel, not Gumby. So we work out, bulk up and forget about stretching--and then wonder why, for all the new brawn, we can't seem to hit a baseball any farther. Or why we have this nagging pain in our lower back. The answer lies in the one component of fitness that remains a tough sell, especially to young men: flexibility. We ignore it atour peril.
I'm lost when it comes to the status of the backlash. There was feminism and a male backlash against feminism, then a feminist backlash against the male backlash. Now there seems to be--correct me if I'm wrong--a male backlash against the feminist backlash. My head is swimming. As a feminist, do I like men now? Do they like me? Should we commence to tear out each other's throats? Or is it time for meaningful dialogue? Here's the biggest question:
I thought I had experienced everything in the erotic world until the night my 22-year-old girlfriend came into my bedroom stark naked, holding three large oranges and a knife. She carved a hole in the end of the first one and allowed the juice to drip all over my genitals. She cut the second one into four wedges, squeezed them and licked the juice off my scrotum. She then forced the head of my erect penis into the hole of the first orange, gently squeezing and turning the orange until I came. She halved the third orange and rubbed it all over her body, which I licked clean. Then she asked me to squirt the juice directly into her vagina. Have you ever heard of having sex with citrus fruit? My girlfriend says citric acid fights infection. Is that true?--F. B., Hesperia, Michigan.
Murders, rapes and drug abuse have taken their toll on Florida's tourism, so towns and counties have started a crusade to curtail crime. Not oblivious to this, Florida is cracking down on dangerous acts wherever and however they may appear. How? For one, by banning thong bikinis. But before they can be outlawed, the law must describe just what they reveal. Here's an example:
Chicago lawyer Sharon Wildey had known Oregon rancher Richard Springs III nine weeks when she brought up marriage. Springs proposed and they chose a $19,000 engagement ring. He also opened a checking account in Chicago and gave Wildey signed blank checks from it. She promptly wrote herself a $6000 loan. But Springs soon came to feel that the thrice-married Wildey and her children did little to make him feel part of the family. Wildey wouldn't discuss it. Six weeks after he proposed, Springs wrote Wildey a letter ending their engagement with the words "Ours is not a good situation for me." He told Wildey she should keep the ring and use the $10,000 remaining in his Chicago bank account. Wildey sold the ring and emptied the account. She then sued Springs for "breach of promise to marry." A jury awarded her $178,000, more than half of it for "pain and suffering." (This award was later reduced by $60,000.)
I was stopped at a light on Tony Montana Avenue in Santa Monica, sunroof and windows wide open, puffing away happily on a cigar. Relaxing alone in the car, it seemed that I had found one of the few places where my family--or anyone else--would let me smoke the occasional stogie. Suddenly, an adolescent voice from the car alongside ordered me to "Put it out!"
<p>• Deion Sanders is in a hurry. Closing the gap on an NFL receiver, legging out a triple on the baseball diamond, touting a new sports drink or racing to the recording studio to cut a rap album, 27-year-old Sanders is fast becoming the decade's most versatile athlete. And he is making money faster than his agent can invest it. "Making bank," as he gleefully puts it.</p>
At One End of a block in Brooklyn, where the elevated train casts diamond-shaped shadows on the intersection of Foster Avenue and MacDonald Avenue, an Arabic chant blares over a loudspeaker every Friday, sounding the call to prayer at the Abu Bakr Siddique mosque. Except for its fortress-like entryway, the building doesn't look much different from the other brownstones and wood-frame houses in the neighborhood. But it was here that Sheikh Omar Abdel Rahman called for the destruction of "the edifices of capitalism." It was here, federal prosecutors will argue in a sedition trial in September, that the blind Egyptian cleric inspired his followers to "levy a war of urban terrorism against the U.S." That war's first offensive was the bombing of the World Trade Centerin February 1993.
New York City policewoman Carol Shaya's fondest on-the-job memory might sound like a nightmare to most people. "We got a call about a dispute--a man with a knife was trying to stab his girlfriend. My partner and I arrived on the scene and saw this guy with a machete. I said, 'All right, we have a problem here.' So I jumped out of the car and chased him down. When I pulled up this guy's arrest warrant and found out that he was wanted by the FBI in Puerto Rico and in New York City for a double homicide, I felt good. The FBI sent me a letter of congratulations. Sodid the mayor. That's the day I realized how much I love this job."
Just before noon on most days in 1969, I'd take a lazy drive through the streets of Da Nang, a port city in Vietnam. I would stop at some point for a walk along the riverfront, or browse for a few minutes at a newsstand or stroll through the chaotic marketplace. Later I would drive to the city soccer field, where I looked for a small chalk mark on a faded yellow wall, a signal from one of my agents that he had reports to deliver.
In April, the Playboy bunny hopped down the runways of New York during the fall preview of designer Laura Whitcomb's Label line. "Playboy women are empowered in their sexuality," Whitcomb told The New York Times. "My clothes are based on sexiness."The International Herald Tribune declared Whitcomb's tribute to the Playboy Rabbit Head symbol the hottest ticket in town, and pronounced that her styles "set the agenda for postfeminist power dressing."
Long before Madonna wanted to be Marilyn Monroe, Marilyn wanted to be Harlow--Jean Harlow, the one who introduced a new kind of womanhood to Hollywood. On-screen and off, her specialty was a blend of shock and desire: her penchant for never wearing panties, her rumored below-the-waist dye job, her husband's mysterious suicide and her death at 26. She made "sex funny and comedy sexy," a film historian once said. Precisely. Better than anyone, Jean Harlow knew what gentlemen prefer. Hers was genuine vogue.
The Camera is fascinated with the stump. It zooms in and out slowly, hovers around other parts of the body, then returns. The white cotton pants with little red flowers are crudely cut away so that we can see it: the stump, with a red spot on its tip. Blood? A scab?
If your Girlfriend says "We have to talk," and you know she just watched Oprah, proceed with caution. Sure, Oprah sometimes does a light show, but she also practically invented the word empowerment. Chances are you're about to get dressed down as a bad-smelling, bed-hogging, money-wasting, two-timing bozo who doesn't deserve to be trusted.
Its an hour before closing, and the Historical Museum of South Florida is nearly empty, just the way Maria Checa likes it. Slowly, as if treading on hallowed ground, the Bogotá-born Miss August wanders through the exhibits and stops, transfixed, in front of a 19th century photograph of a huge banyan tree. "As a child," relates Maria with a faint Colombian accent, "I would swing from the vines of a tree just like that one and play for hours under its maze of hanging roots. This picture brings back a million wonderful memories. That is the power of great photography." Maria should know. She's a photographer herself, having studied the craft since she was 17 years old. She shoots primarily with black-and-white film and develops her own pictures, usually portraits of friends or photographs of the art deco architecture in Miami's South Beach neighborhood, where she lives. But this self-proclaimed visual artist expresses herself with more than a camera. Maria also paints in acrylics and watercolors, sketches with charcoal, sculpts and creates three-dimensional mixed-media art. Back at her studio apartment, where she has painted a trompe l'oeil sky on the wall, she pulls a painting from behind an antique armchair that she's reupholstering. Monet, Maria's Himalayan cat, jumps onto her lap for a closer look at the bemused figure on the canvas. "This could represent me," Maria says. "Confused at times, on the fence, open to whatever comes next. I'm quite shy, so I express myself through my artwork." Maria's father introduced her to art by buying her brushes and paints when she was just a child. "He never gave me coloring books, though, because just filling in the blanks requires no creativity. I always knew I had talent, and I wanted to prove it." Maria got her chance after her family moved to Miami in the later Seventies, where she was later accepted at the New World School of the Arts, a high school for artistically gifted teens. After graduating, Maria went on to the Maryland Institute College of Art. Finances forced her to return to Miami, where she now supports herself as a makeup artist for photo shoots and at the cosmetics counter in a department store. "I still feel a passion for art. But sometimes, my job takes precedence over my artwork." Maria hopes being a Playmate will provide new artistic opportunities. Since appearing in the 40th Anniversary Issue of Playboy, she has become somewhat of a celebrity both here and in her homeland. What lies ahead for Maria? "Who knows what great things will develop from these photos," she muses. "My future is a blank canvas just waiting to be painted."
Whether you're a staunch supporter of the Brady law or a lifetime member of the National Rifle Association, one thing's for sure--when it comes to water guns, a truce has been declared. Backpack water tanks, one-pump technology and other engineering advances--including Larami's unique release lever, which "provides a rapid stream of water with better soaking control"--make for a wetting party by the pool or in the park that's great fun.
There are four girls at the table, sharing. The five smoked-chicken minipizzas. The six Caesar salads. An unfathomable number of diet Cokes, plus the contents of three breadbaskets. They share cigarettes, lighters, breath mints, and it seems that they share a basic style: the homage hippie hair (long, brown, center part), the bracelet-size hoop earrings, the baseball caps, the many layers of black mesh and denim.
Dana Delany has an image problem. Sure, she has done steamy turns as Willem Dafoe's ex-junkie girlfriend in "Light Sleeper" and a femme fatale in the miniseries "Wild Palms." But mostly Delany is remembered for playing McMurphy, the introspective and heroic nurse in TV's Vietnam war drama, "China Beach." She's about to bust her wholesome image wide open by starring in "Exit to Eden," a Garry Marshall comedy in which she plays a dominatrix (the film is based on a book by Anne Rice, who wrote it under one of her pen names). We sent Contributing Editor David Rensin to meet with Delany at her Santa Monica home. Says Rensin: "Dana once told a writer that she buys Playboy, 'but I don't read the articles. I look at the pictures.' It's safe to say that's about to change."
Ah Milan--the heart of Lombardy, the focus of Italian commerce, the wealthiest city in the nation. Situated near the foothills of the Alps and the clear mountain lakes of Italy's northern territory, Milan is also the epicenter of European fashion. Itis the mecca to which models flock from around the world, each of them eager to make her stunning mark in the beauty industry. And romance? One look at Milan and you're in love.All of which makes a trip there a natural for us. We enlisted a team of alluring international models--as well as Playmates Samantha Dorman and Becky DelosSantos--and jetted off to the city of ancient palazzi and bustling avenues. Once settled, we got to work: As our coterie of knockouts upstaged the scenery, we sought out equally striking locals--the kind of bellissime who turn heads on the city's fashion runways and sidewalks. As you can imagine, it wasn't hard to find them. Feast your eyes, then, on a true marriage of American know-how and Italian style.
Playboy expands your purchasing power by providing a list of retailers and manufacturers you can contact for information on where to find this month's merchandise. To buy the apparel and equipment shown on pages 20, 22, 108-109, 114-117 and 157, check the listings below to find the stores nearest you.
If you don't already own a portable cellular phone, digital technology may be just the incentive you need. Now available in major markets such as Miami, Los Angeles, New York and Chicago, digital cellular systems can handle about four times the capacity of current analog ones, which means cheaper calls and better connections. Static and background noise, for example, are diminished. And greater privacy is guaranteed: Speech is encoded as data, thus rendering it incomprehensible to an electronic eavesdropper. If digital cellular isn't yet offered in your hometown, there are plenty of analog portables worth considering. One of our favorite models is Motorola's wafer-thin Premier flip phone, which can easily be programmed to vibrate silently rather than ring.