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With spring framing 
alrecdy under way, the 
big league hameruns 
have begun to fly. And 
here in this big league 
issue, you too will 
touch all the bases— 
while enjoying the 
articles^ stories and 
beauties- in full color 



LARRY REICH * editor 



table of contents 



ARTICLES 

US. SUPREME COURT ON THE NUDE US. THE LEWD 

Arthur J. Pendleton 8 

HOW TO SHED YOUR WIFE FOR $100 Horace Whitman 12 

ARE YOU EATING YOURSELF SEXLESS? ... Robert G, White, PhJX 30 
A LOOK AT AMERICA’S FASTEST PLAYING PLAYBOYS . Stan Loft 44 
THOSE LIVELY SPORTS OF DAYS GONE BY Ron Goulart 64 

FICTION 

AFFAIR IN PARIS . .. Steve Shaw 10 

BEDROOMS AREN’T FOR BOY SCOUTS Morton J. Golding 20 

THE EFFERVESCING CASANOVA Ed Knorr 36 

SHE COULD H A VE BELL Y DA NCED A LL NIGH T Roger Royal I 5 2 

FULL COLOR 

THIS GIN NY’S A TONIC .. .. 

HIGH NOON III- JINKS . . 

AMERICA'S BEATNIK BEAUTY 
COLLECTOR’S ITEM 

HUMOR 

THE GREAT LOVER 
NURSERY RHYMES FOR ADD l 

FRIGHTS FOR SORE EYES 

A CRYING NEED TO LAUGH 

SPECIAL 

BRIGHTEST LIGHTS OF NIGHT SCHOOL Full Color Glamor Roundup 40 

FEATURES 

LOVE IS A SLOPPY AFFAIR 

MISS FROM OL MISS 

KEYED UP ■ 

LIFE BEGINS AT IS 


DEPARTMENTS 

METHUSALA, HOW YOUNG YOU LOOK / S. J, Cotter 4 

BACKTA IK Letters to the Editors 6 

JOKER’S GEMS Potpourri of Rib-Ticklers 23 


COVER PHOTO by Bernard 

ACE MAGAZINE , Vol, 7, No. 8, May, If)G& issue. Published bi-monthly by 
Four Star Publications Incorporated, 609 Fifth Avenue, Now York 17, N. Y. 
Price per copy 60o . Subscriptions $ $,6Q por year of six issues. Second class mail 
privileges authorized at New York, N.Y , Postage paid at York, N.Y. and 

Miami, Fla. Nat responsible for the toss of unsolicited wta-miseripte and/or 
photographs. Advertising Representatives, Nathan Katz Associates, 480 Lexing- 
ton New York 17, Now York. Printed in UJSA. 


Welle& Dawes 47 

Personality Profile 55 

Rusiness of Glamor 61 
... Theatrical Exclusive 66 


. Personality Exclusive 16 
... .Adventure in W T &ter 24 
.. Glamor Profile 32 
Beauty Cloteup 49 


.Bob Schochet 1 5 

Harry Gregory 28 

Harold Cline 39 

. ..Roger Wilkinson 58 


3 


Methusala! How Young You Look! 

BY S» J, COTTER 


rTtHOSE of you who watch television regularly 
JL are no doubt familiar with the commercial 
which shows two females, one about 30, the other 
about Ifi, the younger of whom suddenly exclaims 
as the two of them bump into each other, “Cora!" 
"Jane!" repli.es oldish -looking Cora- Abruptly the 
camera comes in for a closeup of Jane, and we see 
that she's got the youthful, creamy complexion of 
a birthday cake. Just, as abruptly we get a closeup 
of Cora's face, jowls and all. "Why Jane," she says, 
a tinge of envy in her voice, "you don't look a 
year older than you did when we graduated high 
school together!" 

This is a lie, since Jane does look maybe two or 
three years older. But the biggest whopper of ell 
comes hying from the youthful lips of Jane, "Well, 
you see. Core," she says, “Fve been using famous 
Pace- Lift Soap ever since." Now, really! Actually, 
Face -Lift had no more part in Jane's youthful ap- 
pearance than did Ponce de Leon's fountain of 
youth. The girl, playing the part of Cora's jowly 
classmate was merely a lass who was a good ten 
years younger than the actress who portrayed the 
bemused Cora. 

But the commercial, poppycock or not, points up 
an interesting trend among today’s Americans. 
Nobody wants to grow old not even gracefully— 
anymore. 

We’re referring to plastic surgery, which is vying 
with psychiatry today for first place in the “Off- 
beat Things To Do With Your Money” category, 
Crow's feet scamper away like mad in the face 
of the plastic surgeon’s onslaught. Drooping chins 
pull themselves erect, bulky faces recede meekly, 
errant, noses quickly decide to go straight. The re- 
sults are marvelous. Nevertheless, there was a 
case not long ago where a middle-aged actress was 
ottered a leading part opposite one of the top male 
box -office stars in the country. She accepted it, 
then went to her local face-fixer and had her 
facial age reduced from 40 to 20. When she •ap- 
peared for the first day of shooting, she was in for 
a letdown. "Sorry,” said the director, “there are 


hundreds of young girls around, What we wanted 
for this part was a mature woman, one whose 
features are distinctive/' And so the poor lady was 
left with a finely -chiseled puss, but nothing to do 
with it. 

Another instance in which surgery was less than 
successful involved a big-time businessman whose 
face was as mottled as a basket of strawberries and 
so wrinkled lb at his employees, instead of calling 
him the Grand Old Man, referred to him in pri- 
vate as the Grand Canyon. 

One day Vice President “Canyon” decided to do 
something about his aged appearance and engaged 
a plastic surgeon. “Might as well give me the clas- 
sic look, while you’re at it," he told the medico. 

The surgeon dutifully obliged, and what came 
out was a combination of Nick the Greek and Her- 
cules. This pleased the VP tremendously, but later 
he got hit with a shock when he returned to his of- 
fice. Since he hadn’t told anyone his plans before- 
hand, nobody recognized him, and his first problem 
arose when the receptionist at the front desk 
refused to let him through. 

"But I’m Mr. Adams,” he protested vainly. "T'm 
your boss.” 

"Mr. Adams is out," she said with the efficient 
blandness for which he had originally hired her. 
“Have you an appointment?" 

"Look,” said the one-time Grand Canyon. "Here 
are my credentials.” He handed her his wallet. 
She examined it, then examined him suspiciously 
and rang a hidden buzzer beneath her desk. With- 
in five minutes police were on the scene and he 
was arrested on, among other things, pick -pocket- 
ing charges. It took a good three hours down at 
headquarters to get things straightened out. And 
when he finally got back to his office he found to 
his dismay that his position of command had some- 
what weakened. After all, how could employees be 
expected to take orders from a man who looked 
no older than 35? 

The moral: grow old gracefully or ungracefully 
as you see fit. Just don’t grow immature! 


Whereas beauty may he In the eye of the toehold 
er* too many people forget that old age isn't 



'America's 12 Most Famous Artists 



Austin HriggK 


Qeorge GLuNti 


*We’re looking 
for people who 
like to draw 


I k vfti] i.iki: to draw, America's 12 
Mo&t Famous Artists want to help 
you 1 i cid out whether you tan be 
trained to be a professional artist. 

Some time ago, we found iliac many 
men anil women who could (and 
should) have become artists never did. 
Some were unsure of their talent. 
Others just couldn’t get topnotch pro- 
fessional art training without leaving 
home or giving up their jobs. 

A Plan to Help Others 

We decided to do something about 
this. Tiki rig time off from our busy 
art careers, we pooled the extensive 
knowledge of art, the professional 
know-how, and the priceless trade se- 
crets wbi< h we ourselves learned 
through long, successful experience. 

Illustrating this knowledge with 
5,000 special drawings, we organized a 
series of lessons covering every aspect 
of drawing and painting . . . lessons 
that anyone could take right in his 
own home and in his spare time. 
Uc then perfected a very personal and 
effective method for criticizing a stu- 
dent's drawings and paintings, 

Our training works well. It has 
helped thousands find success in art. 

Herb Smith was a payroll clerk. 
Soon after he started studying with us, 
he 1 a nded an ar t j ob w Lt h a 1 arge pri nt 
iiig firm. 1'bis was four year ago: to- 
day he's head artist for the same firm, 
Gertrude Vender Poe l had never 
drawn a thing until she enrolled with 
us. Now a swank New York gallery 
sells her paintings. 

Father of Three Starts New Career 
Stanley Bowen had three children to 
support and was trapped in a "no- 
future” job. by studying with us, at 
home in his spare time, he lauded a 
good ijob as an advertising artist and 
has a wonderful future ahead. 

Edward Cathony worked as an elec- 
trical tester, knew nothing about art 
except that he liked to draw. Two 


years after enrolling with us, be be 
came Art and Production Manager foi 
a growing advertising agency- 

With our training, Wanda Picknlsk 
was able to give up her typing job am 
become tEic fashion artist for a Inca 
department store. 

Earns Seven Times as Much 

Eric r.riosnn worked In a garage whili 
he studied nights with us. Today, he 
is a successful advertising illustrator 
earns seven times as much and is hav 
ing a new home buili for his lainily 
Reta Page of Pay son, Utah, writes 
"Thanks to your course, 1'vc sold moo 
than 60 paintings at up to $10(1 each.' 

Even before he finished our train 
ing, schoolteacher Ford Button hat 
sold a monthly comic strip to om 
national magazine plus panel cartoon, 
to a host of other magazines. 

Send for Famous Artists Talent Ten 

To find other men and women wit! 
talent worth developing, we hav. 
created a special 1 2 -page Art Tden 
"lest. Thousands of people former!' 
paid Si for this test. Bnt now ou 
School offers it free and will grade ii 
free. People who show talent on thi 
test are eligible for professional train 
ing by the School. Mail coupon today 

I 

| Famous Artists Schools 

At Lid in 72-62, WaatpDrt. Conn, 
j E would Eike to find out whether I have 
j art talent worth developing. FieitSi send 
j me, without obligation, your Famous 
| Artists Talent Test. 

j Mt. 

j Mrt , Age 

j MtSS 

I Address 

I 

I City , Zone 

I 

I County. Stmt , 

j Accredited by [he AtertdLtiiw Gcmmusinn, 

| Nitron;]] Hcnne Silndy Courted. Ws*hLih[fion, 

I n.C., * nitionitly recognized accrediting agency, 



TOO SIN-SATIOHAL 

Dear ACE: 

Tn his article, "Those Wild, Wild, 
Wild Sin Cults 1 ' (March issue), G. W. 
Hansen has certainly covered a lot 
nf ground, and like most buck shot 
artists of the typewriter, frequently 
mi&sed his target, 

I think a lot of these so-called 
cults are merely practicing what 
they believe in— and you should 
leave them alone, 

Duke D. Forrest 
Santa Barbara, Calif, 

Dear ACE: 

When will writers like G. W. Han- 
sen finally permit the late, great 
scientist, Dr. Wilhelm Reich rest in 
peace? The article was not only dis- 
gustingly inaccurate, hut it algo im- 
puted to Dr. Reich and his followers 
criminal motives, like duping the 
public and seduction of patients. 
Many today owe their lives to the 
brilliant Orgone Theory. 

Arnold Gehrasch 

Carmel, Calif. 

POP-OFF ARTISTS 

Dear ACE: 

Congratulations for your witty ex- 
pose of the biggest fraud to hit the 
cultural scene, the pop artists ("Pop- 
ping Off On Pop Art," March issue) - 
Once upon a time it was considered 
necessary to go to art school to learn 
how to paint, draw and sculpt. To- 
day, this is no longer even desirable. 
We have steam -fitters, housewives, 
drug-addicted beatniks and even 
nursery-school children turning out 
“masterpieces.” 

I look forward to the day when 
perhaps wo may have a variation of 
pop art in the fields of medicine and 
law, There’d be no point in going to 
medical or law school, either. If a 
man is suffering from appendicitis, 
we could treat him by pulling out 
his tonsils-sinrply because perform- 
ing the latter operation would be 
artier. Also, we could have a house- 


wife sitting as Chief Justice of the 
Supreme Court, suitable for the job 
by virtue of her "womans intuition." 

Gabriel E. Wrubalzic 
Cooperstown, N. Y, 


Dear ACE: 

Say what you will about pop art. 
it is here to stay - until it is ready 
to go. 

Sidney Kopff 
Aurora, 111, 


Dear ACE: 

You can't hold back the tide of 
civilization. Pop art is opening new 
avenues of creativity and should be 
encouraged, regardless of who 
chooses to traverse these avenues. I 
am a pop artist, and I'm also a 
"mom." 

Mrs. Sidonie Motherwell 
Lincoln, Neb. 


GIGANTIC APPLAUSE 

Dear ACE: 

WeTe dyed-in-the-wool rooters of 
the New York Giant football club, 
and as such, we'd like to give you a 
big hand for publishing the photo of 
Jo Ames, “The No. 1 Giant Greeter," 
in the January issue of your mag- 
azine. What we'd like to know is, 
who does she greet? And - how can 
we get this lovely damsel to greet 
us? 

Fred Quentin 
Corey Albertson 
Nick Tucci 
Morristown, N. J. 


Dear ACE: 

The Dallas Cowboys didn’t have 
too great a year in the NFL, Yet, 
with Jane Wynn as their queen, how 
could you ever expect them to keep 
their minds on the game? 

Fred Scott Copeley 
Dallas, Tex. 

Dear ACE: 

As a Minneapolis man, I'd like to 
know, how come you didn't show the 


queen of the Minnesota Vikings? 

Dell Underwood 
Minneapolis, Minn. 
(ED: Sorry, Dell, but we ran out of 
space. Yet,, as they're saying about 
the Vikinps— Wttit’11 Tieart year.) 

FOR THE RECORD 

Dear ACE: 

Your magazine certainly has a way 
of getting under a man's skin. I’m 
25, and I don't think I think like a 
teen-ager, either. Yet, according to 
Buster Wilson in his article, “Where 
Sex Appeal Flops in Show Biz” 
(March issue) f I must be pretty 
lacking in sox interests because I 
also buy popular records. 

Well, l couldn't disagree more, I 
happen to dig Rock 'n Roll, as well 
as folk music. Buster Wilson may 
not think so, but this music is mighty 
fine stuff to seduce a young lady by. 

McCabe Robins 
Little Rock, Ark. 

Dear ACE: 

Buster Wilson writes: "Mary Mar- 
tin, Ethel Merman, Julie Andrews, 
Marlene Dietrich, Alfred Drake, Yves 
Montand - forgot them!” 

What is this guy Wilson writing 
about - sex in records or geriatrics? 
That crew he mentions was young 
and sexy when Grant was a cadet. 

Doug Williston, Jr. 
Columbus, Ohio 

LYING LOW? 

Dear ACE: 

After reading Lansing V. Hayes' 
article, fi The Fine Art of Lying to 
Women” (March issue) , 3 am made 
to wonder; Does he really think 
that we females are so stupid? Also, 
what kind of a man is he that he 
can't find a girl he wouldn’t want to 
lie to? 

Edna K. Weller 
Boise, Idaho 

Dear ACE: 

Lansing V. Hayes f& a boon to 
freedom-seeking men. 

Carl Younger 
Adrian, Mich. 


6 




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Since it believes that beauty is really in the 

eyes of the beholder, the High Court has been making 

the female form more "bareable" to the public. 


U.S. SUPREME COURT ON 


|?VER SINCE 1957, when the United States 
" Supreme Court handed down an historic de- 
cision regarding- pornography, the entire practice 
of censorship has been turned topsy turvy, Until 
that time, a voluptuous picture of a nude woman 
was considered out of place anywhere taut in a fine 
arts museum ; full-bosomed girls in scanty bikinis 
were held to be either verboten or in bad taste for 
popular magazines and movies ; and the discussion 
of sex in print was regarded as acceptable, only 
if in book form. 

Until the Supreme Court chose to speak out, 
censorship, invoked frequently by private organi- 
zations (with the backing of local governments) 
was wielded with harsh exactitude. 

For example, as the result of Hollywood's self- 
imposed Motion Picture Production Code, Ameri- 
can-made films forbade scenes from showing: Nude 
or partially nude women ; a man and woman in the 
same bed (even though both may be seen to be fully 
clothed) ; kisses considered to be too long ; kisses on 
the neck, arms or other equally innocous areas of 
the body that were then regarded as erogenous. 

At the same time, numerous prominent maga* 
zines that dared to show a female-no more un- 
dressed than a model in a girdle ad, found in the 
local newspaper— were subjected to censorship 
and police harassment. 

Ironically, the case that began to reverse the 
trend of censorship in the United States involved 
an admitted pornographic publisher from New 
York, named Samuel Roth, who sincerely believed 
that any form of restrictions on printed matter 
was unconstitutional. Regarded as an eccentric 
by some and a sincere zealot in the cause of a 
free press by others, Roth had permitted himself 
to endure jail sentences rather than to waver 
from his stand. 


The government sought to restrain Roth from 
sending through the mails books it had considered 
obscene; furthermore it hoped to affirm the jail 
sentence imposed upon the publisher by the lower 
courts* 

In a dissenting opinion. Justice Hugo L. Black 
averred that under the Constitution, nothing can 
be banned. However, the other members of the 
Court disagreed. Yet even though they found Roth 
guilty of violating the law, the majority of the 
Justices handed down a decree that caused the 
nation's bluenoaes to shudder with dismay. 

The Supreme Court held that despite the fact 
true pornography was not protected by the guar ■ 
antees of freedom of speech and freedom of the 
press, a definition of what is obscene waa in order. 
To determine obscenity, the work as a whole 
must be considered, ruled the Justices, If the sole 
purpose of a book, magazine, story, painting, 
motion picture or photograph is seen to excite 
the lewd or lecherous imagination of the average 
individual, then under the law such a work may be 
censored. 

The government won its case, and Roth was 
sent to jail. Nevertheless, the decision succeeded 
in cramping the style of the nation's censors, 
causing them to chafe angrily. The reason was 
obvious: Whereas, prior to the decision, a work 
could be banned if any part of it was found to be 
offensive, this was no longer the case. Now prose- 
cutors would have to prove the entire output ob- 
scene; also that it was exclusively intended to 
excite lust in a normal person. 

The impact of this ruling was widely felt, since 
no longer could a normal, healthy male be pre- 
vented from enjoying a photograph of a nude 
beauty, simply because it might overly arouse a 
sick or immature mind, (Cont. on p, 72) 


8 




^ ■ 





TO SPEND 24 


HOURS WITH A 


CERTAIN KIND 

■ • '.a 



MEAN MORE TO 
" ' A MAN THAN A 

I 4 ,f ^ JME ° F 


s 


M 



w 

1 , 


y 

s ■ si 


life t 

• y ; 


I WAS the first one she saw when she came through 
the doorway and, I think, the last, I went over to 
her and handed her one of the two glasses of wine I held 
(the second one was for later; it was that kind of party). 
Her lips moved soundlessly and she watched me over the 
glass as she sipped. Just to be sure, I asked her, “Who 
are yon with, or of, or for, or after?” 

She said she didn’t know anybody in the room and 
hadn’t been invited. She had been visiting someone in 
the building and this door was open, that’s all. 

That is when it started, the thing about time and space. 
I don’t half pretend to know what it was all about, from 
a scientific standpoint. Maybe Einstein, if he really tried, 
could have explained it. Anyway, something happened 
to time, as though it was telescoped and things that should 
have taken a year took a minute; as though we had just 
met but already knew each other half a lifetime. 

We finished our wine, and then we walked out of the 
party and down the stairs and out into the street, The 
Parisian winter air was wet, gentle and aphrodisiac. We 
walked hand in hand down the street and now, with 
our flesh touching, we could look elsewhere. It was as 
though our life forces— the electricity, energy, what have 
you, that is us — flowed back and forth and into one 
another through our eyes or our hands or. later, the 
rest of us. 

You say I haven’t described her. All right, that too was 
a part of the strangeness. / can't describe her. What does 
it matter what what she wore, or whether her hair was 
dark or light or long or short, or whether her eyes were 
blue or chartreuse? Not this time, it didn’t matter! For 
she was the sum of all the lovely women I've ever had 
or wanted or dreamed of. She was Woman. 

We went to my place, walking by way of the Boulevard 
de Montparnasse. All the time, you understand, the years 
were passing. She would say, “The poor little thing,” and 
stoop to scratch behind the ear of a nondescript pup that 
had been trod upon or kicked— and because she scratched 
behind his ear instead of just patting (Cont. on p. 68) 




MANY STATES OF THE UNION ARE 



T HE ROAD to SplitavUle is paved with gold for 
the female of the species according to a rash 
of articles which have recently appeared in a slew 
of magazines and newspapers. With one out of 
four American marriages ending on the rocks, 
these articles reflect the awakening of the nation 
to the fact that it's the man who always pays- 
and usually through the nose. Put them all to- 
gether, and they add up to a loud, masculine howl 
protesting the high cost of leaving. 

Such articles have rightly focused the spot- 
light of publicity on the archaic divorce laws 
currently on the statute books of every state in 
the nation. They’ve shown how such laws are in- 
variably loaded in favor of the wife. And they’ve 
pointed" up the inconsistencies which make divorce 
so outrageously expensive. 

Everything they’ve said is true, but — and it s a 
most important but —' without exception these arti- 
cles have dealt with divorces which, while they 
may stretch the law", always satisfy its require- 
ments and operate within its bounds. 1 hey ve 
pointed up the fact that evidence where adultery 
is concerned and such things as residence require- 
ments are often phonied up, but only in ways 
showing how such tricks used to satisfy legal 
requirements add to the cost of divorce. What they 
haven’t done is show how many of these gimmicks, 
utilized with know-how, may help a man shed his 
wife cheaply. 

The truth of the matter is that a frau may be 
shucked for as little as $100 ! 

If this figure sounds unrealistic, there are facts 
to back it up. Consider the case of Bill H. f recently 
divorced who unraveled his marriage knot at pre- 
cisely that cost— ? 100-all expenses included. 

Bill is a backwoods farmer in the state of Ala- 
bama. He and bis wife recently decided to call it. 
a marital day. and Bill went to see a lawyer in the 



HOW TO SHED YOOR 



HELPING MEN ENTER THE HAPPY STATE OF DISUNION 


nearest small town. The lawyer quickly saw that 
they were incompatible* but incompatibility is not 
considered grounds for divorce in Alabama. 

“Do you drink?" the legal eagle asked Bill. 

"Sure,” 

“Do you get drunk?" 

“Well—" 

“You get drunk once a week* regularly,” the 
attorney instructed him. 

A week later Bill was in front of the circuit 
judge confessing that he got drunk once a week, 
regularly. Drunkenness is grounds for divorce in 
Alabama. “Divorce granted,” the judge told Bill's 
wife. "Next case ! M 

The total cost to Bill was S100, the fee the 
lawyer charged him for handling the case. IBs a 
standard fee— not just with this attorney, but with 
a whole new breed of Alabama lawyers special- 
izing in eases which take advantage of the many 
loopholes of the state's ultra-liberal divorce laws. 

It should be pointed out that both the Alabama 
bar and the great majority of Alabama lawyers 
look with distaste upon those in their ranks who 
specialize in quickie divorces. It should also be 
pointed out that the $100 fee is usually two or 
three times that much in the larger cities of Ala- 
bama like Montgomery, or Birmingham, However, 
in the backwoods areas where calls for his serv- 
ices are few and far between, the local Nizer is 
finding that $100 divorce fees add up to a more 
lucrative practice than wangling his way onto the 
public payroll— which used to be just about the 
only possibility open to attorneys practicing in 
the sticka. 

Are these $100 divorces available to guy a who 
don't live in Alabama? You bet your single— or 
married— life they are ! Just add on the cost of bus- 
fare and you'll find that Southern hospitality is a 
hallmark of the divorce (Cont. on next page) 




WIFE FOR 



HOW TO SHED YOUR WIFE FOR SIOO 


courts of hospitable old Alabam'. 

The residence requirement accord- 
ing to the statutes is one year. In 
actuality h you don't have to hang 
around long enough for the sun to 
set on you. All you have to do is 
sign a sworn statement to the effect 
that you intend to live in Alabama, 
Nobody ever bothers checking to see 
whether you've really set up house- 
keeping in the state. 

Another string that's easy to snip 
is the rider Alabama attaches to the 
effect that the divorced man can’t 
remarry for GO days, it’s true that 
legally such a marriage would be 
invalid if performed in Alabama, 
but there's nothing to prevent him 
marrying again within hours after 
the decree is granted in any of the 
other 49 states of the union. The 
Other states recognize his Alabama 
decree, but don't honor the restric- 
tions placed on if. 

The Alabama plucking of such 
burnt benedicts from the barbecue 
pit may be accomplished on a va- 
riety of grounds. In addition to 
drunkenness, these include dope ad- 
diction, desertion, adultesy, non- 
support, insanity and general cruelty. 
The widest interpretation is given 
these categories, particularly the 
last mentioned. And they apply 
equally to male and female (with 
the exception of non-support, of 
course, since Alabama like every 
other state in the Union considers 
support the duty of the male). 

Only one of the parties involved 
need appear in an Alabama divorce 
case. All that’s needed is a sworn 
statement from the other party 
agreeing not to contest the divorce. 
Should the other party balk at this, 
there have been eases where names 
have been forged to such documents. 
The lawyer involved, of course, will 
have nothing to do with such chi- 
canery. He'll merely point out the 
legal requirements to his client- 
and carefully not ask any questions 
when the signed waiver is brought 
to him for submission to the court. 

Technically, a wife bamboozled in 
this way may have all sorts of legal 
recourse. In actuality, though, the 
trickster husband has a lot of things 
working for him. For one thing, as 
soon as the divorce is a /ai£ accom- 
pli, the wife is more apt to accept it 
than when it’s still in the arguing 
stage. For another, to challenge it 
after it's been granted is a costly 
procedure and even if she wins, she 
then has to bring a separate lawsuit 

V 


14 


against her husband to make him 
foot the bill. 

Naturally, the state of Alabama 
will deny that such things happen. 
But they do. In fairness, though, 
Alabama is far from the only place 
where the law Is overstepped in 
divorce cases. Also, it’s not the only 
place where a man can shed his wife 
inexpensively. Depending on where 
he lives and the circumstances sur- 
rounding his divorce, the hip wife- 
shedder can keep costs at a mini- 
mum. 

For instance, suppose your reason 
for ditching your mate is that you've 
caught her being unfaithful to you. 
If you live in the South, or reason- 
ably close to it, you’re sitting pretty. 
You can get your divorce in Florida, 
North or South Carolina— and the 
law says you don’t have to pay the 
cheating Mrs, any alimony. There's a 
residence requirement of six months 
in Florida, hut with divorce mills 
running full steam there, it's easily 
and widely faked- As in Alabama, 
the big city lawyers charge higher 
prices— an average of about $350 per 
split-up. But in small towns the 
shysters set their own fees and are 
open to bargaining. As often as not 
they'll settle for between $100 and 
$200. Another advantage of the hin- 
terland divoi'ce is that the court 
calendars aren't crowded there the 
way they are in the big cities and 
the “Kaput!” stamp is usually put 
on a marriage with little or no de- 
lay, Costs in the Carolinas are even 
somewhat lower than in Florida. 

The “no alimony in adultery” pro- 
tection is also available to the guy 
who sheds his wife Nebraska, or 
Wisconsin. Only Nebraska requires 
a two-year residency and enforces 
the requirement, plus a six -month 
waiting period before the divorce 
becomes final: legal fees are moder- 
ate compared to the rest of the 
country, but they’re still higher than 
in Alabama, or Florida, averaging 
around $£50 to $350 per split-up. 
Fees are around the same in Wiscon- 
sin which also enforces a two-year 
residency and forbids remarriage 
for one year after granting the 
divorce. 

Is your wife bad-tempered^ That's 
also grounds for divorce in Florida. 
Likewise in Kentucky where the 
one-year residency requirement is 
winked at and many a lawyer up in 
the hill country will take your case 
for a $100 fee. And if her bad temper 
—or yours, for that matter— results 


in public insult, many a Louisiana 
swampland attorney will get you a 
divorce for a minimal charge. 

Louisiana also may be lenient 
where its one-year residency re- 
quirement is concerned, but it c&n 
hamstring the male eager to shed 
his wife in other ways. For instance, 
it enforces a one-year waiting period 
before the decree becomes final in 
all cases except those involving 
adultery. And in adultery cases the 
law specifically forbids the guilty 
party io marry the adulterous part- 
ner! 

Such restrictions aren't found only 
in Louisiana. Tennessee and Penn- 
sylvania have similar laws. Georgia, 
Michigan, Mississippi, and North 
Dakota leave this provision up to 
the discretion of the court. New 
York, says the guilty party can't re- 
marry for three years or more if 
the court sees fit. And South. Dakota 
forbids remarriage by the guilty 
party as long as the ex-spouse is 
ahve. 

All 5G stales grant divorces on the 
grounds of adultery. But this is an 
expensive way to amputate a spouse 
and usually leaves her with a life- 
time claim on you. Also, the rules of 
evidence are so strict in most of 
these states that cases based on adul- 
tery are invariably cooked op with 
the husband consenting to being 
caught in a hotel room with the 
“other" woman.” Generally speak- 
ing, it’s far shrewder to cull other, 
less- well-known grounds from the 
morass of state- divorce laws. 

One of these is “fraud.” It stands 
up in Delaware, Kansas, Ohio, Okla- 
homa, Rhode Island and Tennessee. 
Of these, Kansas and Oklahoma are 
the easiest and cheapest pieces to 
obtain divorce. "Fraud” is inter- 
preted quite loosely there, and there 
are cases on the hooks where di- 
vorces have been granted on the 
simple grounds that the husband lied 
about his income, or the wife mis- 
represented her teeth as being her 
own when they were really false. 
Also, in many cases in the six states 
w r here fraud is proven, the court 
doesn’t grant property settlements - 
even to the so-called injured party. 

For the man bent on divorce it 
will be helpful to bear in mind cer- 
tain odd facts about specific states. 
Here are a few such facts: 

Alaska: Impotency is grounds for 
divorce, Tt needn't be proven, merely 
acknowledged by both parties. Legal 
fees are low, in the (Com. on p. 75) 




15 









Domestic to the core, Gimny has no difficulty in 
making herself at home, no matter where she Ts+ 


Ho bachelor's home bar 
would be complete 
without an intoHicating 
beauty like Ginny tutrone 
to add that sparkle 
plenty" touch. She's 
enough tu put any man 
in highest spirits. Ulhat's 
mare, she's bound to 
get him Schwepped 
off his feet in o hurry. 


Whatever drinks ore being served, this luscious 
lass proves she can put the "OH J ' into GH$OH. 


16 






HI • 



if P ■ fl 

1 Wl 4JE k 

r ’% 





Even though she's admittedly career- minded, Ginny 
eventually hopes to settle down and roise a family. 






Even though she's admittedly career-minded, Ginny 
eventually hopes to settle down and raise a family, 


In her aunt home, 
this brown-haired 
beauty reueals she 
is soothing and 
relaxed. Ulith her 
around, life can 
prnue thoroughly 
cushy for a man. 



But right now she's perfectly content to enfoy the carefree ex isle nee of a coed 1 . Not only is I his scin- 
tillating siren a tonic to males,, but on campus she gives them all plenty to shout "rah rah rah" about. 


19 









Men who pride themselves on being first-rate 
lovers should remember onething: Never under- 
estimate the power of o woman on the make. 


T HE RADIO was playing softly, charging ibo air 
with a tender, aching song, A single amber- 
tinted lamp was turned on. Two people were there 
—a man and a girl. The girl removed the last of her 
lacy underthings. She turned to the man with a 
half smile on her lovely face, arching her back so 
that her breasts would stand proudly erect. 

“Come here, 1 ' the man said, drawing her with 
him onto the bed. 

Their lips met and clung, their bodies tensed and 
joined together. “Now.” the gir] said. "P lease, pi ease, 
now.'" 

At last they separated, moving gently apart. They 
each took a cigarette, and the man lit them, 

For several minutes, the two smoked in silence. 
Then the girl readied across the night table for her 
watch and stared at it. “My God !” she said. L 'I have 
to go!*’ 

"Must you? Can’t you stay the night? The whole 
night?” 

"You don’t know bow much I’d love to, darling," 
she said wistfully. “But I can’t. My husband ... I 
told him I was visiting a sick girl friend. It's one 
o’clock, already, and if I’m any later he’ll never 
believe mo.” 

“Is he jealous?" 

"Terribly.” 

"Selfish lout. Wanting to chain you up , , , keep 
you all for himself. I can’t really blame him though." 

The girl had secured her bra and panties, and was 
now dipping up her skirt. Tears glistened in the 
corners of her eyes. “I’ll never see you again. I just 
can’t take the chance.” She sobbed, then collected 
herself with an effort. “It doesn’t matter, though,” 
she said, holding her chin up. "Bobby Craig has 
made love to me and I’ve lived!” 

Forcing herself not to look back, she stumbled out 
of the apartment. Bobby Craig heard the fading 
sound of her clicking heels as she walked down the 
hall, He waited, listening for the elevator before 
switching on the overhead light. He glanced around 
his apartment, not forgetting to admire the taste of 
the interior decorator (Continued on tteTt pdft?e) 



FICTION BV IVIOHTON J- COLDlNC 


21 


BEDROOMS AREN’T FOR BOY SCOUTS 


who designed it. With its plush 
furniture, its carefully selected pic- 
tures, it was perfectly made for one 
single purpose: The seduction of a 
woman. 

Craig emptied the ash-trays, 
turned off the radio and re -made his 
bed. “At last," he said aloud, when 
the room was in darkness and he 
could sink into the bed’s expensive 
softness, "At last I can be by myself 
arid get some rest," He closed bis 
eyes and was asleep before he had 
time to think another thought- The 
next morning he woke up aching in 
every part of his body. His head felt 
as if it were going to detach itself 
from his shoulders. His eyes burned 
and a fufc&y taste was in his mouth. 
He dragged himself out of bed and 
over to his bathroom mirror. "My 
God,” he said to his image, “You look 
awful.” He did, too. His red-rimmed 
eyes were sinking into his skull and 
his mouth had a nervous twitch. 
“And how does it feel, old boy, to be 
the man who can get any woman he 
chooses?” he asked the horror in the 
mirror. Since his image showed no 
signs of answering, he continued, 
himself. "It feds rotten — that's how 
it feels!” 

It was not so much the ability to 
make it with any woman, at all, that 
was getting him down, he decided as 
he splashed water over his face. It 
was having to prove it at least one 
time a night and sometimes as often 
as three or four or mere. It was a 
killing pace. Literally killing! He 
shuddered — thinking of the autopsy 
report and wondering how they 
would explain it. He had to do some- 
thing about it. He urn? poinp to do 
something about it! 

The first step was to see Matty 
Friar, his agent, the man who guided 
his career as singer, actor and lover. 
He had to see Matty before doing 
anything else. And Matty would not 
be happy with his decision. 

Matty’s office was a brief fifteen 
minute cab ride from the apartment- 
Craig drank a cup of coffee, made a 
quick phone call to say that he was 
coming and dashed downstairs. When 
he reached the office, he ignored the 
two swooning secretaries and pushed 
into the inner sanctum where Matty 
Friar sat behind his desk, worried lv 

V 


pufTmg his king-sized Havana Cigar. 

“What's the matter, my boy,” be 
said, looking at Craig's harried face. 
“You know how I think of you. Any- 
thing you need, anything you want, 
just tell Matty Friar.” 

“I want to quit women for a 
while,” 

“You what?” 

"I want to quit women.” 

The agent’s jaw went slack and his 
round face went white under its 
painfully acquired sun-tan. “How can 
you do this to me,” he moaned. “How 
can you do this?” 

“Look, I . . ," 

”Who built you up into the world's 
greatest lover? Who got you banned 
in Boston? Who talked the news- 
papers into blasting you with editor- 
ials? Who got you shot at by an 
irate husband — and made sure be 
missed?” 

“Why you did. But 

“And what happened to your in- 
come? You’re the highest paid singer 
in the world, aren’t you? You have 
twenty gold records, and any movie 
you appear in is a guaranteed hit. 
Ynu don’t think you did all that on 
talent, do you? Singing or acting 
talent, that is,” 

“Well, I.. 

“My boy, the talent which makes 
you a success is the talent you use 
in the bedroom. I don't want to hurl 
your feelings, but when people come 
to see you they come to see the 
world's greatest !over. Man, you 
make Don Juan look like a boy 
scoui.” Matty sighed deeply, “And 
you want to give all this up — sell Out 
—after all I've done for you. That’s 
gratitude for you!” 

“Look, I’m sorry,” Bobby Craig 
said, speaking fast before the agent 
could interrupt him, again. “But I 
just can't take any more. Every man 
has his limit, you know.” Talking in 
a low, hoarse voice, he told Matty 
how he felt- 

The agent looked him over cri- 
tically. “You do look a little run 
down,” the agent admitted. 

“Down,” Craig said bitterly. “That's 
a good description." 

"What are your plans?” Matty 
asked, ignoring the remark. 

“I figured I’d just stay away from 
girls for a couple of months. I won’t 


approach them and if any chase after 
me I’ll give them the polite too 
thank you? Then, when 1 feel better, 
I'll get back into action, again.” 

The agent shock his head, mo- 
rosely. "It won’t do.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you’ll be all through, 
then. The public will have forgotten 
about you in a couple of months.” 

“I’ll stage a comeback,’ 1 Craig said, 
optimistically. 

But Matty was still shaking his 
bead. “The word’ll get around that 
there’s something wrong with you 
and you won't be a menace anymore. 
You ever bear of a sick bedroom 
menace?" 

Craig set his jaw, weakly. “I don’t 
care. I still can’t go On.” 

Suddenly, Matty snapped hi& fin- 
gers. “I got it,” he said. “You go 
away. On a hunting trip. Lovers al- 
ways go hunting — it makes ’em seem 
more virile.” 

“But I don't know how to hunt,” 
Craig pointed out. “I've never shot a 
gun in my life.” 

l What difference does that make? 
We can always hire some one to pull 
the trigger. The important thing is 
that you’ll be away from women for 
a while.” 

“Yes,” Craig smiled happily. 

During the next couple of weeks, 
the papers were full of Bobby Craig’s 
hunting expedition. He planned to go 
to the Northwest, where the country 
was still relatively free from civiliza- 
tion and where a man could tramp 
through the woods for days without 
seeing a town or even a road, 

Matty Friar arranged to have 
photos taken of his client in hunting 
clothes, holding a shotgun, holding a 
rifle, and holding a fishing rod. "'I 
want to get back to basic values," 
Bobby was quoted as saying. ’’Back 
to the time when a man was a man 
and had to go out and kill his own 
food if he wanted to eat.” 

It is a known fact that over 150 
marriages broke up after the inter- 
view appeared, with the wives telling 
their husbands that they could no 
longer live with worms. "Why can’t 
you be a man like Bobby Craig?” 
one woman asked her spouse scorn- 
fully. “If you really loved me. you'd 
go out and bring (Cont. on p- 70) 


22 



THE JOKER'S GEMS 


A playboy was visiting a psychia- 
trist who asked, lL Arc you troubled 
by any sexual fantasies." 

"Why no," replied the playboy, 
"I rather enjoy them." 


Probably few men in the world arc 
as stingy as George. If he weren't so 
stingy he never would have gotten 
married, The girl he became en- 
gaged to got so fat that he wanted to 
break off the engagement. However, 
she couldn’t get tire ring off, and so 
he had to marry her. 


A man who was having sexual dif- 
ficulties with his wife, as the result 
of drinking was advised to take up 
yoga. He became pretty good at it 


after awhile, having learned to ac- 
tivate long unused muscies. 

Later the family physician, who 
knew about the situation, asked the 
wife, "Has this yoga stint helped 
your husband any?” 

“'Oh sura,” the wife replied sar- 
castically. ".Now he can drink while 
standing on his head." 


English newspapers provoked the ire 
of the country’s models by referring 
to Christine Keeler as a model. "Your 
disgracing our profession,” a statu- 
esque beauty told a reporter. 

"But what about the elude paint- 
ing of her made by the late Dr. 
Ward?” the reporter asked. 

’’Hmph," sniffed the model, £l he 
probably did it from memory.” 


For five years. Joe lived with Ann. a 
voluptuous blonde. He loved her, but 
couldn’t get himself to make their 
relationship legal. Then one night, 
Ann softly told hor lover that she was 
going to have a baby. That did it. Joe 
immediately decided they should get 
married. And so they went down to 
city hall the next day. 

Joe's boss st the advertising agency 
who knew all about the affair, called 
the young father-to-be, winked, con- 
gratulated him and presented him 
with a raise. 

When the baby was born. Joe re- 
ceived another raise. However, as 
the years went on, several more chil- 
dren were born, and Ann had ceased 
to he a voluptuous siren. "Joe, we need 
more money, and you haven't had a 
raise since our first child was bom,” 
she complained. "Tell him about your 
five children, how you have to sit 
up nights, wash all the dishes. Play 
on bis sympathies.” 

Joe agreed. When he returned 
home that night, Ann asked, "Did 
you get that raise?" 

"Hell, no,” Joe replied. :| I got 
fired. The boss said T had too many 
outside activities.'’ 


Mary Widdoes told her friend Polly 
Giot, 'T don't like to tell my men 
patients that I'm a trained nurse 
anymore,-" 

if Wby not?” was the reply. 

"Well," said Alary, "every time I 
do, these men thrown back their 
sheets and ask me to prove it.” 








High Noon 


jT USED to be said that the rich are different 
from the poor because they have more money. 
Yet, nowadays they have more fun, too. Blonde 
Joanie Moar (she’s rich enough to own a swim- 
ming pool) proves she’s not really an idle rich 
by enjoying energetic noontime sport with her 
neighbor and friend, Carla Gallo, Anyway, this 
is how the better-off manage to take time off. 



1 

1 * Wl 


w8m 






##/— //##/»* 


There's a big advantage to owning 
a private pool — where you can discard 
your inhibitions with your clothes . 




25 






While their successful fathers are out 
reaping the fruits of working, in a free 
economy, the girls decide to engage in a 
bit of free competition themselves. Vet, 
considering the fact that the temperature 
is nearly 90 degrees and that the sun is 
ideal for acquiring a brilliant coppery 
sun tan, neither beauty can wind up a 
loser today. For one thing's certain— 
there's no better way to beat the heat. 




After an active day, the girls are ready for a siesta * happy 

that their fiesta proved to be such a wonderful, big splash , 


NimSUSItY BHTMB8 


LOUIS' BRITCHES 


THERE WAS A CROOKED MOUSE 


Louis* britches falling down. 

Falling down, falling down. 

Louis' britches falling down, 

On the subway. 

See him try to hold them tip , 

Hold them up, hold them up, 

See him try to hold them up. 

On the subway. 

Hut his bett has stretched and snapped. 
Stretched and snapped, stretched and snapped. 
Oooh, his belt has stretched and snapped, 

On the subway. 

And Sam made the pants too big, 

Hants too big, pants too big. 

Oy! Sam made the pants too big , 


There was a crooked mouse, and she walked 
a crooked street. 

She met a crooked flatfoot, walking 
a crooked beaL 

He knew a crooked dame, who ran 
a crooked house. 

And now the split is three-way for the 
little crooked mouse/ 


PAT-A-CAKE 


For the subway. 

Louis’ holding packages, 
packages, packages. 

Louis’ holding packages. 

On the subway * 

Now he lets the bundles go. 
Bundles go, bundles go. 

Now he lets the bundles go, 
in the subway. 

/Is he tries to grab his punts, 

Grab his pants, grab his pants. 

.4s he tries to grab his pants, 

On the subway * 

Now he's got 'em, now he don’t! 
Now he don’t, now he. don't! 

Now he’s got ’em, now he don’t- 
On the subway. 

Louis, he runs out the door, 

Out the door, out the door. 

Louis, he runs out the door. 

Of the subway. 

Now poor Louis takes a cab, 

Takes a cab, takes a cab. 

Now poor Louis takes a cab, 

Not the mb way, 

Bui his pants still make the trip , 
Make the trip , make the trip * 

Morn and night they make the trip, 
On the subway! 


Pat-a-eake, pat-a-cahe, housewife’s bed! 
Sex in Suburbia’s guick-or-dead! 

Roll her and thank her 
And use the back door / 

Hubby will be home on the 
7 : 34 / 



LITTLE TESSIE TUCKER 


Little Tessie Tucker 
Sins for her supper , 
What should you pay her ? 
Cabfare and a fiver. 


Better make it ten, 

Lest she bug your life. 
Tessie’s not above 
Squealing to your wife/ 




mm mmwuMM (mhz 


SING A SONG OF SEXPOTS 


The boss- with his accountant’s help* 
Counts up all the checks which 
Salesmen on expense accounts 
Landed with their sfjc pitch , 


Sing a song of sexpots, 

A party full of rye; 
Waiting for the showgirls 
Baked in a pie! 


So sing a song of s expots; 

Sales are on the rise, 
Thanks to naughty nudies 
Dazzling buyers’ eyes! 


When the pie is opened 
i'j The girts begin to strip 
\ And the buyers all agree 
It livens up the trip! 


JACK AND JILL AND FANNY HILL 


% PROFUMQ, PROF V MO, 

\ WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? 

t “Profumo, Prafumo, 
u- "Where have you been ? 

| *Fve been to London 
W *Tq Visit Christine? 


Jack and Jill read u Fanny HitV* 
While sipping her Dad’s brandy. 
What Jack read went to his head, 
And Jill though t that ton# dandy . 


Up Jack got and home did trot 
Surprised Jill was so easy. 

He went to bed to mend his head; 
The brandy’d made him queasy* 


'Profumo, Profumo, 

*What did you see? 

f The whole British government 

* Running from me! ,T 


Jill came in, and she did grin 
To see JacUs sleep unharried . 
*Tve news for you! Pm overdue!” 
-Now Jack and Jill are married. 


TWINKLE, TWINKLE , VILLAGE BAR 

Twinkle, twinkle, Village bar. 

Row t wonder what you are ! 

Nestling on a beatnik street, 

Looking oh! so hip , so beat * 


^ Painters ? Poets? Pot inside? 
k Pamies ? Permits come to hide? 
| Winas? Wenc/ios on the make? 
§--My thirst for evil here PH slake! 


'But when I gain I see: 

*TV, juke box, squares like me! 
Wrnce again Pve been « sap! 
Wwinklc, twinkle. Tourist Trap! 


NURSERY RHYMES FOR ADULTS ONLY 
By Harry Gregory 



AIRE YOU 


44-]Y° BOEiY LOVE 5 a fat man, 

i 1 but oh, how cl fat man can 
love,” according to the old song. 
However, the latest scientific investi- 
gations on the relationship between 
the appetite for food and the ap- 
petite for sex have resulted in data 
which label the ditty more a war- 
bling of wishful thinking than actual 
truth, it isn't the way females react, 
to the fat cat's rotundity which 
keeps him from tomcalting:; rather 
it's the fact that his obesity has 
rendered him sluggish in matters 
of passion. 

"Obesity reduces sex interest,” ac- 
cording to dietary expert Donald G. 
Cooley in his book. The Neu? Way To 
Eat and Get Slim. Medical and nutri- 
tional research bear him out. And 
psychologists bring forth many men- 
tal reasons to the physical ones 
which cause the chubby chap to tend 
toward being under-sexed. 

The primary physical factor af- 
fecting male passion is the sex 
glands. These are regulated by the 
pituitary which also regulates the 
thyroid gland which interacts to 
some extent with the sex gland s. 
The thyroid, reacting directly to the 
amounts of food a man eats, is im- 
paired by over-eating, and, in the 
words of Dr. Kinsey In his study 


Recent scientific findings reveal 
that men who love to eat well but not 
wisely are likely to prove unappetizing 
to those good -loo king dishes who want 



Sexual Behavior of the Human Mate, 
thus "affects the sexual activity of 
the individual.” 

Another reason Mr. Five-By-Fivo 
finds his amorous activities waning 
is more obvious. Quite simply, all 
that extra weight he’s carrying 
around is a drain on his energy. He’s 
apt to prove too weary to engage in 
coitus, and if he should, he’s likely 
to find himself a relatively poor 
lover. 

This, naturally, leads to frustra- 
tions’ and where they can lead, is 
vividly illustrated by the case of 
Henry VIII, the famous gluttonous 
King of England, History tells us 
Henry was more interested in gorg- 
ing himself than making love to his 
various queens. And, on those oc- 
casions when he did heave his roly- 
poly carcass into their boudoirs, he 
was usually too stuffed to perform. 


to be romanced— with inspiration* 


BY ROBERT a. 

WHITE, PH.P, 



YOURSELF 


A King, of course, couldn't admit to 
such ineffectuality, and so he be- 
headed four of his six wives on 
the pretext that they were frigid, 
A fifth, Anne Boleyn, was slain for 
engaging in adultery, a crime which 
fat Henry's impotency drove her to 
commit. Henry's lack of sex drive 
was probably also due to a third 
physical factor resulting from over- 
feeding hi& face. The menus of his 
royal feasts were noticeably lacking 
in high -protein foods. And "evidence 


30 



that proteins are essential for , . . 
normal functioning of sex is reason- 
ably conclusive," according to Cooley. 
He cites a study where young males 
with normal sex-drives had their 
protein intake restricted with the 
following results: "They lost interest 
in windy comers, cabaret shows, 
beaches and beauties. Their sex in- 
stinct was notably depressed.” 

Other evidence is provided from 
the fact that the birth-rate of Euro- 
pean countries during the war de- 
creased in direct ratio to the extent 
to which their populations were de- 
prived of proteins in their diets. Also, 
Yale University conducted an experi- 
ment in which the amount of protein 
given a group of rats was doubled 


with the immediate result that both 
their sexual activity and birth-rate 
increased tremendously. Thus, today, 
the importance of proteins in main- 
taining a high sex drive is ac- 
knowledged by most members of the 
medical profession., Futhermore it 
should be noted that most fattening 
foods are lacking in proteins. They 
are also lacking in iron, a mineral 
vital to the male sex drive. (This is 
the fourth factor which keeps Fat 
Frankies home nights while thinner, 
High -Hemoglobin Harolds are out 
proving their virility.) Lack of iron 
results in anemia, a common disease 
among the over-plump, which causes 
an energy-sapping low hemoglobin 
countin the blood. Such "tired blood" 


makes for tired kanoodling as well. 

The fifth anti-sex factor which 
seems to go hand-in-hand with fat- 
ness has to do with vitamins. The 
sweet- and-starch diet of the fat man 
is usually as lacking in proper vita- 
mins as j.n proteins and iron. The 
different vitamins play important 
parts in ft man's sexual ability. 

A deficiency of Vitamin B, for in- 
stance, interferes with the proper 
workings of the adrenal glands and 
thereby acts to subdue passion. Lack 
of Vitamin A may cause an erosion 
of tissues in the sex glands- Vitamin 
C f according to a study made by 
Professor Paul H. Phillips of the 
University of Wisconsin, may by its 
absence cause both (Cant, on p, 


31 






Thirty miles outside of Los Angele$ r with 
cin old form house os her pod, Sue's reoll 
It made. She con live Ihe way she pleases. 


Whenever the mood strikes her r sbe'fl write some 
poetry. Her lines are a greet pleasure to scarf. 







There dre also many times when Sue likes to go 
in for a busy session of painting. Her efforts may not 
be great., but she delights in the "easel" life. 



She loves reading Allen Ginsburg, whom she calls 
"the Keats of the beats/' also likes Jack Kerouac. 


33 










It's hard to believe, but Sue recently turned dawna chance to take a Hollywood screen test. 

Said she: "1 can always take a part-time job whenever I need to earn some bread* Besides, if you 
□sk me, I think movies these days are strictly for squares," It's a cinch, though, that If she 
did make the films, she'd he helping plenty of squares to enjoy a happier, well-rounded life* 




_■ 



Even though a luscious lass should prove ready and 
witling, a man shouidn r t kid himself about what ho can do • 


I'M 22 YEARS OLD and at last I'm not a virgin 

any more. Maybe that seems a minor accom- 
plishment tor a guy my age to boast about, in 
today’s free-wheeling world. But you see* I’m a 
special case— a hard case, you might say -and 
have been ever since that eonftdenee-sbalring sum- 
mer when I was 15 years old. Before then I had 
nothing but confidence where things like sex and 
women were concerned. Having no experience 
With either, why not ? 

ft was the first summer I went with my family 
to the Cape instead of being shipped off to a boy*s 
camp for vacation. My parents 1 vacation that is, 
not mine. I hated that camp and even today Fm 
unconvinced that the privileges of hiking till your 
feet blister, eating half-cooked potatoes over an 
open fire, making your own bed, washing your 
own clothes, listening to sex lectures from coun- 
selors only a few years older than yourself are 
really the elements of the ideal vacation. But my 
parents remained convinced that it was Nirvana 
they were shipping me to each summer— until my 
15-year-old brain stumbled on the subtlety of 
implying that sodomy ran rampant at the camp 
and that the owner had the reputation among the 
boys of being off-beat None of this was really 
true - at least, not overtly so - but it did the trick. 
When the hemming and hawing had cleared and 
the blushes subsided, it w T as decided. I was to 


spend the summer on the Cape with the folks. 

Even before the summer started, I began 
making plans. You see, although I'd known some 
girls and heard Jots of talk from older boys, I 
had no first-hand experience of this thing which 
so clearly separated the boys- who-' we re-men from 
the boys-who-wera-boys. Thus it was my intention 
to make of this summer the proving-ground of 
my manhood. 

To do this, I realized that I had to project a 
certain kind of image — one I'd bad no experience 
with before. I had to put myself across as a 
sophisticated guy w r ho'd been around — preferably 
a guy of around 18 or 19. You see, the one thing 
my former fumbling* had taught me was that a 
fellow^ who seems to know what it’s all about will 
get a lot further with girls — particularly those 
who've had some experience of their own — than 
the feIiow T who T s blatantly a young innocent. 

In a eouple of w T ays, I was lucky in establishing 
this image, I was a big kid for my age and all 
those summers of hiking at camp had filled me 
out, given me muscles and the physical develop- 
ment that goes with an older appearance. So I 
could pass for a college boy. Also, nobody knew T 
me at the Cape, so I could invent any kind of 
background for myself I wanted. I settled on 
Harvard because Fd heard of the beer parties 
they had there. Also, it was (Cont. on next page) 


The 


FICTION BY ED KNORR 

ing Casanova 


THE EFFERVESCING CASANOVA 


close enough to make mysterious il- 
lusions to wild weekends in New 
York with chorus girls sound plausi- 
ble. I even bought a Harvard sweat- 
shirt to wear on the beach and 
invented a Radcliffe girl with whom 
I’d had the “compleat affair” until 
her parents had switched her over 
to Vassar in order to split us up. 

This was all grou nd work, laid 
with remarks dropped to kids 1 met 
on the beach and in the local pizza 
hangout. And I made sure, of course, 
that these kids were in the right age 
bracket- I avoided the kjds of my 
own age like the plague. 1 was alter 
the real thing, the ultimate experi- 
ence, the willing older woman to 
initiate me into the mysteries of sex 
sans pekoe and compassion. 

I found what I was looking for— 
or at least 1 thought I'd found it — 
about three weeks after we came to 
the Cape. Her name was Larraine 
Farrar and at very first glance she 
had all the qua! j float ions—' visually, 
anyway — that I was seeking. 

Larraine was the type you'd de- 
scribe as hot-eyed — although the 
long-lashed blinking which conjures 
up the description was really due 
to myopia. But she had the Chinese 
cheekbones and touselod black hair 
to complete the come-hither-ness of 
the category. And she’d mastered 
the art of pursing her lips in a way 
that made the most mundane words 
fall out of her mouth like glittering 
invitations to a night in the harem. 

But if the invitations were to be 
taken seriously, the harem was re- 
dundant. From nock to shiny pedi- 
cure Larraine’s equipment was suffi- 
cient unto the Arabian night. In 
short, she was stacked like a brick 
burlesque house. 

Yet, despite her eye appeal, Lar- 
raine wasn't noticeably popular with 
the fellows. This was particularly 
surprising since casual inquiries had 
revealed to toe that Larraine had 
also acquired over the past three or 
four summers something of a repu- 
tation for casual promiscuity. In- 
deed, after talking to quite a few of 
the guys around, it began to seem 
that I might well be the only male 
of college age (I'd even begun to 
think of myself this way, you see) 
who hadn't made it with her. Rut, it 
seemed that once having been grant- 
ed her favors, males lost interest in 
her. The reason, I gathered, was 
that although she was a Bennington 
College sophomore, Larraine wasn't 
very bright. The opinion seemed to 
be that her round-heeled ways were 
actually an over-compensation for 
her verbal and social deficiencies. 
As one ofabhe fellows put it, “you 
feel like you should say something 
afterwards, but with Larraine there's 


just nothing to say. She digs sex, 
and she’s hip to ail the lines and all 
the angles, hut once it's over, you 
find out that’s absolutely all she 
knows. Hell, there’s no rapport, if 
you know what I mean. Still, she’s 
damn good, and 1 suppose every guy 
should give her a tumble at least 
once. 1 ' 

Well, I was for that. The more I 
thou ght about he r. the more I 
realized that Larraine Farrar was 
perfect for my purposes. Even her 
density was to my advantage, since 
it would make my imposture easier 
to carry through. If I played my 
cards right, I could work it so she’d 
be teaching me without her even 
knowing she was doing it. All I had 
to do was follow her leads quickly 
enough. 

So I got myself introduced to her 
on the beach, asked her out and 
was accepted. I planned the evening 
carefully, First some dancing and 
a few beers at a roadhouse the col- 
lege kids hung out at. Then a slow 
walk to town for some hamburgers, 
or pizza, or something. And then 
the long walk back from town along 
the deserted beach with its selection 
of cozy rock crannies nestling in the 
moonlight. At some point during this 
walk, I envisioned the pause during 
which Larraine would fall to the 
send like a ripe blossom awaiting 
the fierce onslaught of the virile bcc 
which was me. In the impatience of 
m.y imaginings, I even saw this 
scene taking place — with the fury 
of passion that wouldn't be stayed 

— during our first stroll from the 
roadhouse to town. The beer, I rea- 
soned, might spur our desires to 
make the earlier event the more 
likely. 

I even carried this daydream past 
its climax and saw myself becoming 
bored by Larraine as the others said 
they had. I saw myself the weary 
and sophisticated lover tactfully eas- 
ing himself out of the situation. And 
I'd be tactful all right — tactful and 
kind and forebearing. After all, even 
if she’d never have guessed it, Lar- 
raine would have done me a great 
favor. The least I owed her in return 
was the courtesy of allowing myself 
to be bored. Neither cad, nor ingrate 
would I be. 

I went over the sequence umpty- 
dozen times and finally it was time 
to pick up Larraine. She was a V- 
necklined vixen in a summer frock 
that might have looked simple on 
another girl, but was made more 
complex on her by the ingredients 
she'd poured into it. Her arm slipped 
through mine brought her breast in 
contact with my elbow which im- 
mediately developed into a mobile 

— it limited - erogenous zone. She 


noticed and commented on it as we 
walked. 

"I've seen roamin’ hands and rush- 
in' fingers,” she said, “but this is the 
first time I ever saw such a Hung’ry 
elbow.” 

“Am I in Dutch?” I left my elbow 
where it was, waiting for her answer 
to tell me if I was maybe rushing 
things. 

She laughed, “You're fast. But 
then I never met a Harvard man 
who wasn’t-” 

The elbow settled in securely, 
“They don’t call us tigers for noth- 
ing.” I told her. 

"I thought tigers were Princeton. ” 
She looked at me curiously. 

“Yeah, Sure. I mean my dub- 
That’s what they call us— tigers.” 

'"What club’s that?'' 

"Skull- and -bones,” I desperately 
grabbed for the first name I could 
remember. 

“That's Yale , , , Say, are you sure 
you go to Harvard?” 

“Of course- You don't think I’d 
lie about a thing like that, do you?” 

“Well, I don’t know.’ 1 

We’d reached the roadhouse by 
that time, and I managed to get her 
sidetracked onto some beer and 
dancing and some talk about the 
other kids there before her sus- 
picions bad time to jell. After the 
first couple of beers, she forgot all 
about it and was decidedly friendlier 
and warmer — partciularly as we 
danced. She sure did like beer. I 
wasn’t too used to it myself though, 
and I found myself getting dizzy 
trying to keep up with her. Luckily, 
she was a big talker, and all I had 
to do was keep nodding my head 
and wait for the dizziness to go 
away. 

“Oooh! They’re playing the 
Huckiebuck. Come on.” She grabbed 
rny hand and 1 found myself tripping 
onto the dance floor behind her, 

I didn't know the dance. I guess 
it was before my time, but I wasn't 
about to admit that to Larraine, 
even in my confused state. It was 
sort of a speeded -up Ljndy with 
variations, and I tried to fake it. I 
might have gotten aw r ay with it, too, 
if my reflexes and: sense of balance 
hadn’t besn all scrambled from the 
beer. 

As it happened, it proved disas- 
trous, I spun Larraine around a 
couple of times, and than got over- 
confident. T twirled her away from 
me violently with one hand, let go, 
and then reached to retrieve her 
wjih the other. L w r ns too late. I'd 
(brown her too fast and grabbed 
too slow, Larraine went careening 
into a table and landed with her 
tferriere in a plate of french fries 
and her elbow r in fCont. cm p, fif) 


38 




















Night School 

Ever since 1826, when the Lyceum of Boston was 
organized, to provide education for adults , night 
schools have been mushrooming steadily all 1 
over the U,S ♦ Today it is estimated that nearly 
35 million men and women are attending classes 
for the purpose of getting diplomas t advanced 
degrees, specialized training or just plain general 
knowledge. With night school having achieved 
such popularity, the editors of ACE conducted 
a private survey to discover the most popular 
night school coeds. The twelve winners with the 
most dazzling looks are shown on these pages , 

Like most after-dark scholars, these beauties also 
work during the day . Some are actresses and 
models , while others are office workers and 
secretaries * Yet, while these lasses may have 
looks that seem too good to be true, they're all 
striving for higher learning ( which philosophers 
call the real good, true and beautiful). Most of 
all, these glamor queens are proving that where 
education has become an adult affair, night 
life couldn't be brighter or more exciting . 


^ Shirley Drews 


41 







mssw 



Trina B ova 


Sortdra DeAuteil 
(This Issues Cover Girl) 



Though they know the ABC's of 
glamor these smart-looking beauties 
also know that nowadays it's the smart 



girl who gets "a-head" in life. With brains to 


match their glamor, it's quite understandable why they're the apple of their teachers eyes* 



^,s 







A LOOK AT ./JA/.g'/sV CVJ'S 



TODAY'S ROMEOS REVEAL IT TAKES MORE THAN MONEY TO 

GIVE THEIR PLAYMATES THAT "SWOONDERFUL" FEELING. 


44 


rsM & 




puimm pajwmm 


N OT L.ONG AGO, a Hollywood studio, in an effort to 
build up one of its new TV actors as a dashing lover, 
set its publicity grist mills to work, For Hollywood, the 
promotion was - purely and simply — standard operating 
procedure. But for the young actor, who was dutifully 
given to writing weekly letters to his mother, the charades 
was more than he could bear- He was bored by his dates 
with tire studios more promising sexpots. He was morti- 
fied by rumors of his involvement in two paternity suits. 
And finally he became dazed and terrified when a New 
York model he had been seeing eventually fell in love 
with him. In desperation the actor “disappeared 1 ' On a 
round-the-world cruise— but before departing, he told 
the press, 'The studio is nuts. They’re trying to make me 
into a playboy. But that sort of stuff is old hat. It doesn't 
exist anymore.” 

True, the Hollywood publicity hacks are living in the 
past. The old-time hard-drinking, wild -playing Romeos 
have disappeared from the scene. Yet, in their place you'll 
find a playboy with a different image-a more philosophic, 
French -lover type, who thought he’s dedicated to preserv- 
ing his bachelorhood, isn't afraid to enjoy a deep relation- 
ship with a woman. 

There are good reasons for this: Taxes have cut deeply 
into the amount of swag a man has to throw around now- 
adays, expense accounts notwithstanding; the guys in 
the high-income brackets generally are talented In- 
dividuals who enjoy working as hard as they do play- 
ing; and being high-cabbered men, they usually seek 
out females who have more on the hall than being 
willing, ready and able to make do with a pretty face 
and a luscious figure. 

Perhaps nobody has learned the fact that you can't 
let playing interfere with working more than the screw- 
bail pitcher of the Los Angeles Angels, Bo Belinsky, A 
sharp man with the curves, both on-field and off, Bo, 
having set his mind to it, managed to hurl a no-hitter 
during his rookie season. However, the young man 
couldn’t resist the subsequent attention that was heaped 
upon him {much of it feminine) and eventually slipped 
back into his old form of being an in -and -outer. 

In the minors Bo had a so-so record on the mound — 
and possibly because he was paying more attention to 
curves off the diamond. While pitching for Pensacola he 
created quite a furor with a Filipino glamor queen 
named Zenaida Abella, who eventually followed him to 
the Los Angeles training camp. 

Eventually Bo broke off with her and pitched his no- 
hitter. Then he made headlines when well-stacked 
showgirl accused him of belting her around in his car 
in the early hours of the morning. She later sued him 
for E50,IXH) t claiming she was u so physically manhandled 
and mauled' 1 that she incurred permanent injuries. Bo 
denied that he socked her, saying that she merely 
bumped her head on his car, following an argument. 
Later the Angels' playboy was observed making the 


scene with Ann-Margrei and Connie Stevens, Finally 
be became engaged to blonde bombshell Mamie Van 
Doren, of whom he said, "She’ll help me keep my mind 
on my pitching.” 

As it turned out, though. Bo's mind was more on 
pitching woo than baseball. When the Angel manage- 
ment — thoroughly disgusted at the way Belinsky pre- 
ferred having a bail to playing ball— decided to ship 
him down to the minors., he broke off with his red-hot 
Mamie. Even today, observers will tell you that Bo's 
success as a playboy will depend on his success as a 
pitcher — and he'll only make it big in both departments 
when he can separate the two activities in his mind. 

Perhaps Bo should take a cue from circus impressario 
John Ringling North or designer Oleg Cassini, two 
eminent successes, both with women and work. 

An old-timer, North dates back to the era when play- 
boys wooed flappers over bathtub gin. Nevertheless, 
following the crash in 1929, North displayed the fact 
that he possessed too much intelligence and drive to 
disappear into obscurity, and eventually be took over 
the family circus, quickly becoming the big roan of the 
Big Top. fCorai. on fiesri papej 



A LOOK AT AMERICA’S FASTEST PLAYING PLAYBOYS 


However, while he was keeping 
the public happy by plying them 
with his inimitable collection of 
freaks, acrobats and animals, he still 
managed to find time to dally with 
socialite Liz Whitney, French actress 
Germaine Aussey (whom he married 
and divorced), another French ac- 
tress, Danielle Darrieux, showgirl 
Arm Mace, starlet Gloria Drew and 
another starlet, Dodie Heath (per- 
sistently gossipped as becoming or 
being the next Mrs, North) . 

Oleg Cassini, on the otberhand, 
has proved an equally prodigious 
bachelor. Internationally famous as 
a designer of clothes for women, 
Cassini (unlike other men in his 
field) has. displayed a Hair for 
charming girls, as well as keeping 
them in stitches, 

In his younger day, Oleg revealed 
a more serious attitude about the 
opposite sox. He foil jn love with 
patent medicine heiress, madcap 
Merry JTahrney, sufficiently to marry 
her, but after twenty minutes, called 
it off and hied to the West Coast, 
where he became a designer for 
Paramount. There he met Gene 
Tierney, and once again Cupid's 
marksmanship sent him scurrying 
down the wedding aisle. 

However, since his second di- 
vorce, Cassini has managed to play 
it “cool 11 with the girls, reaping both 
their plaudits and their sighs. In- 
cluded in his list of conquests have 
been Barbara Freking (who also 
modeled for him), Marci Massi and 
Grace Kelly (for whom he lias con- 
tinued designing since her marriage 
to Prince Kanier). 

Of the younger generation, per- 
haps nobody can. qualify as much as 
Marlon Brando for being an avidly 
successful playboy. Much snickering 
comment has been made about 
Brando’s penchant for oriental beau- 
ties; bjs so-called inferiority com- 
plex; and. his zany penchant for 
dressing in beatnik garb while 
taking in the offbeat coffee houses. 

Nevertheless, the truth is. while 
scoffers come and go, Brando con- 
tinues to carry on in strong style. 
His acting skill has brought him 
tremendous wealth, as well as criti- 
cal acclaim. Said One New York 
reviewer: “He is unquestionably the 
lop American actor today " Yet, bis 
dalliance with tEie opposite sex has 

V 


managed to make headlines with, 
two allegations of fathering infants 
out of wedlock. 

Just as Brando has created a new 
image for the American actor, so 
also has he established a unique 
stamp for the U.S. playboy. Said one 
associate: “You have to understand 
that Marlon just isn't typical in any- 
thing he does. You can accuse him 
of self-consciously trying to be dif- 
ferent. but that doesn’t apply to the 
way he behaves with women. Mar- 
lon actually falls in love with the 
girls he goes steady with. Whether 
the relationship lasts a week or six 
months, he's deeply in love." 

As one wag put it, “Brando’s 
amours, may have taken an oriental 
slam, but the accent is strictly 
French.' 1 Light-hearted as the re- 
mark may be, it is actually a tribute 
to the star. 

Such an attitude would be viewed 
dimly by the self-appointed lama of 
the so-called modern playboy, Hugh 
Hefner; for while the bunny king 
espouses a new sexual freedom for 
the American male, he actually 
harks hack anachronistically to the 
booze and floozie days of the Twen- 
ties when the most a girl could 
mean to a man was lioing an imper- 
sonal plaything. 

"What we're selling is good, 
healthy, upbeat revolt against the 
things that have been ruining Amer- 
ica," said Hefner. "Our philosophy is 
that you should work hard end play 
hard and strive to get into the so- 
phisticated upper crust." 

Whereas the work -and -play dedi- 
cation certainly does characterize 
the modern American playboy, one 
wonders whether the men who prac- 
tice what they preach really resem- 
ble Hefner’s image of an F. Scotl 
Fitzgerald social climber. 

Undisputed king of today's active 
American playboys is singer- actor- 
producer- tycoon Frank Sinatra, 
whose list of girls linked to his name 
would fill a Manhattan phone direc- 
tory. 

An unquestioned success, an avid 
reader o( books, on intimate of Pres- 
idents 1 and industrialists, Binatra 
could probably be described as one 
who strove and succeeded in getting 
into the "sophisticated upper crust." 

Ygt, somehow, the behind-thc- 
scene antics of the man who still 


makes women swoon, as he did when 
he was known as the Voice, fail to fit 
the image of Hefner’s playboy. His 
unpredictable fiareups at the press; 
his outbursts of generosity toward 
his friends: his penchant for prac- 
tical jokes {like the time he led his 
"rat pack” onto a Hollywood night 
club stage, disrupting a performance 
by Eddie Fisher) : his entertaining 
Chicago mobster Sam Giancana at 
bis C&l-Neva Lodge (which pro- 
voked the ire of the Nevada officials 
and Ted to his selling his entire 
gambling interests in that state) : his 
announcement to the press that he 
was marrying Juliet Browse (solely 
to build up her stock, as an enter- 
tainer) ; all of these antics do not 
characterize a man who is overly 
worried about what others think of 
him. 

One girl who knew Sinatra and 
who didn't want to be identified told 
this reporter, “On the surface he tries 
to act bardboned. Tie calls every girt, 
'George.’ Yet. if he likes you, be can’t 
stay hardhoiled for long. He treats 
you like a friend, an equal. And of 
course, if he loves you, he can be very 
tender and passionate. 11 

This is a quite different impres- 
sion from the one created by a Play- 
boy Club bunny who appeared on a 
television show p two years ago and 
said, "I don't really like the picture 
of the female being only an accessory 
of a man." The girl’s outspokenness 
caused her to be fired, and later Vic- 
tor Low r nes III, a Hefner aide ad- 
mitted. "I guess we do express an 
anti-feminist point of view, and we 
might be somewhat in error in not 
giving the exceptional woman full 
credit. But we firmly believe that 
women are not equal to men." 

It’s a cool, detached attitude and 
hardly an accurate description of the 
men who ’[ope to play with women. 
For whether Hefner chooses to recog- 
nize the fact or not, American (and 
even European) females have been 
emancipated for some time now. You 
can’t be a makeoui artist with a 
come -on that went out of style with 
the 1929 crash. 

A case in point occurred not long 
ago on tlic Via Venetu, when hard- 
p laying (when he’s not hard-work- 
ing) John Barrymore Jr. made head- 
lines as the result of another of his 
frequent brawls. (Coht, vti p. 82 J 


46 



aaiiifflffiiiiiafflfflaffliiiffiii iffliiiffi 



Real-life men and women have to work 
hard to match fictional lovers at play 


H E TAKES her in His strong manly nms and their 
Ups meet, clinging together loitH the smouldering 
awakening of passion, Slowly , they sink to the couch. 
His fingers t angle in her hair as the kiss sets their 
bodies aflame. His other hand slides between the buttons 
0/ her blouse and uhth feverish quickness starts to ■undo 
them. Later he begins to gently stroke the length of her 
tawny, silken tegs. Their clothes fall away. Briefly their 
bodies are caught in a moment of ecstasy. And then 
facie -oat. 1 

You’ve seen the above scene, or variations of it. in a 
hundred foreign movies, You’ve seen watered-down 
versions in many a Hollywood film. You've seen still 
weaker dramatizations in stageplays. And you’ve read 
descriptions of such love scenes - in varying degrees 
of torrid ity — in one novel after another. 

But the novelist, the playwright, the penner of 
scenarios is in actuality the wishful thinker for us all. 


He's the pattern- maker of the sex scene, and while he 
may not dream them up out of whole cloth, he’s still 
trimming away quite a bit of reality, The scene he’s 
painting is an ideal, and sex in practice falls far short 
of the ideal, 

Take the scene described above. It ain’t necessarily 
so, Why-’ Because love is a sloppy affair; that's why! In 
real life it would probably come off more as follows; 

He takes her in his arms and their noses collide pain- 
fully. Their lips meet and He J s or er whelmed — by the 
smell of garlic on her breath; she wishes he’d ease tip 
on the pressure— his snag tooth is puncturing her upper 
lip. Her fee t hurt and his arm's growing tired of sap- 
porting her, so they both try to shift to a more com- 
fortable position at the same time with the result that 
they lose their balance and fall awkwardly ottta the bed. 
His fingers tangle in her Hair and she yells; “Be careful, 
you jerk. I just Had a permanent!*' his other hand slides 


See rtexf page 



LOVE IS A SLOPPY AFFAIR 


to her breast tofrere it becomes 
cawght beftoC^Tt the -ujires of tier bra 
and the disappointing jflab inside; 
this cuts off the circnlfttton and his 
fingers gran? tintnh. Finally he works 
it loose and strokes her legs. noting 
unfit distaste that she hasn't shaved 
them recently; the skin feels like 
the “Bejore" part of a Gillette razor 
ad. They undress and it takes him a 
good jive minutes to figure out how 
to undo the clasp at the bach of her 
bra; also, the zipper 0 / his pants 
catches and his momentary agony 
almost makes him say. “The hell 
with it.” Finally their clothes are off 
and they look at each other. She 
focuses on his pot-belly. He can't 
take his eyes ojQF the carbuncle com- 
ing to a head on her- le/t buttock. 
And so they come together awk- 
wardly and make love . . . 

Well, maybe that's an exaggera- 
tion. But, men and women being 
what they are. life being what it is, 
and sex being what it is, it's a damn 
sight more likely a description than 
any apt to be offered in books, plays, 
or movies. Let's just take a look at 
the people involved, for instance.' 

Tn fiction they're gods and god- 
desses. perfectly formed, physically 
flawless, mature perhaps, but never 
aging, ripe, but never fat. stocky 
maybe, but never squat. Yet take a 
look around you. What do you see? 

For every girl with a perfect, 
slender figure there are ten losing 
the battle against flab. For every girl 
with a perfect, upthrust bust, there 
are a dozen who are under-endowed, 
who sag. who have size but lack 
shape. For every girl with satiny 
skin and a peaches-and -cream com- 
plexion there are those who are sal- 
low, who suffer from acne, hives and 
periodic outbreaks of pimples. For 
every pair of long, supple, graceful 
legs there are a pair apiece that bow, 
that are skinny and scrawny, that 
belong on a piano, that are too hairy. 

Nor do the fellows come off much 
better. Some guys may be able to 
measure up to the hairy- chested, 
Jtat-bellied. broad-shouldered, mus- 
cular, agile heroes of fiction, but 
most of us can't quite make it. Many 
a man who can raise a yardful of 
crabgrass with no trouble at all can't 
manage to sprout so much as a fol- 
licle on his chest. And no matter how 
much some of us suck our stomachs 
in. that beer-bulge can't be bid. Also, 
if you've matured with skinny shoul- 
ders there's not much can be done 
about it. An entire large segment of 
the male population sits at a desk 
all day, its muscles left behind with 


its high school letter. As for agility, 
a look at the average guy on a 
dance-floor labels him about as 
graceful as a hippo trying to keep 
its balance on a high-wire, 

With such real-life men and wom- 
en for openers, it f s easy to see why 
the course of lovemaking rarely runs 
the way the fictioneers portray it. 
Yet they go on perpetuating certain 
ploys just as though they were abso- 
lute "musts” in the game of love. 
Let’s take a look at some of these 
gambits and see what may happen 
when they come up in real life: 

The Adolescent Kiss is invariably 
an oscillatory awakening in fiction: 
it stirs up the glands, sends the blood 
coursing, speeds up the respiration, 
ignites young love until the lovers 
melt and fuse into a well -dramatized 
Kinsey statistic. The possibilities in 
real-life, while perhaps not so ro- 
mantic, are more down-to-earth. 
Maybe their braces lock. Maybe a 
cop comes along and shines his flash- 
light in the back of the car. More 
likely, the girl begins to giggle; in 
real life that first kiss is apt to be 
inept, unsatisfying and sloppy — the 
kind of kiss more likely to incite 
laughter than to ignite passions. 

Romatittc Atmosphere always 
hangs heavy in fiction, usually con- 
sisting of soft music floating out of 
a radio, heady perfume floating from 
the general direction of the lady and 
moonlight floating in through a con- 
venient window'. Floating along to 
actuality, we find the ardent lover 
spraining a hip trying to time his 
movements to the Sousa march 
which has suddenly blared forth 
from the radio, sneezing his head 
off because he's allergic to Milady's 
scent, and tripping over the night- 
table in the darkness as a cloud 
obscures the moon. 

.Spontaneous Combustion is cur- 
rently much in favor in novels like 
those of Henry Miller which find the 
protagonist chalking up his sex score 
as he encounters it, with nary a 
pause between the urge and the act 
-or between the acts, for that mat- 
ter. Thus sex flares up in such un- 
likely places as the embankment of 
a railroad track, the public hallway 
of an apartment building, in a Parts 
lavatory, atop a desk in an office 
and (.rampant, but unfulfilled) on 
the subway during the rush-hour. 
With all due respect to Miller, we 
can't recommend his choice of lo- 
cales for real- life lovemaking. It 
would be a hell of a note to have 
one's passion cut short by the Union 
Pacific running ahead of schedule; 


apartment house lobbies are prone 
to all kinds of interruptions, includ- 
ing fresh kids who think it's fun to 
chalk up everything -and everybody 
—in sight; even in Paris the lava- 
tories are sometimes called into use 
for pursuits other than lovemaking: 
desk -top sex may result in a staple - 
perforated posterior, ink -stained un- 
dies, office gossip and worse; and 
subway seductions during the rush 
present the problem of being sure 
that one is fondling the right female 
-fondling the wrong one can lead 
to all sorts of difficulties, the least of 
which might be a black eye. 

Down-to-earthtness, known on the 
literary scene as "realism," marks 
Miller's sex scenes as it does those 
of his erotic-minded predecessor, 
D. H, Lawrence. Unlike Miller, Law- 
rence liked to portray his sex in 
pastoral settings, H.is Lady Chatter- 
icy and her gamekeeper seem always 
to be frolicking over some meadow, 
pausing periodically to entwine some 
form of vegetation around the mu3l 
unlikely parts of the body, an activ- 
ity which spurs them on to some of 
the most-detailed lovemaking in 
English literature. Well, there are 
bucolic types who dig this sort of 
thing. One such couple found a spot 
far enough removed from the high- 
way traffic to give it a whirl. The 
result was two of the worst cases of 
poison oak nn record; it’s perhaps a 
tribute to Lawrence that there wasn't 
a spot on either of their bodies free 
of the rash. 

Fasg Adultery marks Lady Chat- 
terley. but it's even easier in the 
novels of today, like those of John 
O'Hara, Indeed, O'Hara has trans- 
formed this theme into a life's work. 
Nobody, but nobody, in his books 
ever remains faithful to a husband 
or wife. And they accomplish their 
adulteries with such ease! In Eliza- 
beth Appleton the straying wife 
sneaks her lover into her bedroom as 
sonn as the children are asleep; in 
A Rage To Live,, she makes it in a 
nearby barn just after watching a 
stallion mate a mare: in Ten North 
Frederick the hero takes his daugh- 
ter's best friend away for a weekend 
as though it was the easiest thing in 
the world to arrange. Well, here's a 
word of warning to would-be adul- 
terers: it ain’t quite that easy. Kids 
have a way of waking up and wan- 
dering into the bedroom even when 
husbands and wives are making 
love, let alone during illicit kanood- 
ling; and be it known that nothing 
can cool a lover's warmth so effec- 
tively as the nudge fCont. on p. 79) 


48 



Cynthia Marvel has a fancy time, visiting an old, remodeled California 



See nexf page 






Among the valued objets d'arf was an old 


opium pipe (see opp. page). No need to fill jt 


here, however, with scintillating Cynthia 


around, A vision to behold, she proves to be 


what dreams are mode of— as well as the 


most treasured collector's item in the house. 









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1 



tifTEY! That’s for me/ f Jim Luftus grinned 
happily, as he stared at the girl in the 
abbreviated harem costume who was just pre- 
paring to go into her dance. 

“For me" Fred Brighten corrected. Only he 
was in deadly earnest. 

The two girls at the table glanced at each other 
sympathetically, as if agreeing that they had 
made a big mistake in allowing the men to take 
them to this night dub. They were sisters. Sally 
and Rita Martin. Sally and Jim had a thing going 
and, since Fred was Jim’s best friend, the four 
of them sometimes double-dated. Tonight, they 
were all together at the Cairo Room— a place re- 
nowned for its belly dancers. And Nella Amour, 
the young lady who had stepped onto the stage, 
was described by the local press as being the most 
beautiful example of the breed that even the Cairo 
Room had ever seen. 

The two women sighed and resigned themselves 
to letting their dates stare at Nella. There was 
really nothing else that they could do. Nella was 
something to stare at f Her long, bare torso did not 
have the pudgy, fleshy look of so many belly 
dancers. Between the barely adequate bra and the 


bikini briefs with their trailing transparent skirts, 
her body was as supple and flexible as that of a 
snake. And the twistings and contortions it went 
through would have made any self-respecting 
serpent green with envy. As soon as the lush, 
oriental music began, it was obvious that Nella" s 
belly dance was far from abstract. Every little 
movement, indeed, had a meaning all its own— 
and it was perfectly plain as to exactly what that 
meaning was. Even the women had a certain 
amount of unwilling admiration in their eyes. 
As for the men, they were fascinated. 

“A girl like that can be dangerous,” Jim Luftus 
said when Nella was through. 

“What do you mean?” Fred asked slowly, as 
ho gradually came out of his trance. 

“If she should give one of those body shakes 
at the wrong time, it could damn near kill a man,” 

“What a way to go,” Fred sighed, dreamily. 

I4 I think you’re disgusting," Rita said, pointing 
her nose at the ceiling." 

“Both of you,” her sister agreed. 

Jim turned to Sally in order to recapture lost 
ground. Soon the Uvo of them were laughing, 
touching their legs together (Cont. on next page) 


Whenever this sizzling siren performed, 
she had a lot more twists than met the eye. 


FICTION B¥ ROGER ROY ALL 


SHE COULD HAVE BELLY DANCED ALL NIGHT 


and giving every indication that they 
could hardly wail to be indecently 
alone. Fred, on the other hand, was 
hardly bothering to pay attention to 
his date. He had never been in love 
with Rita, but she was a slim and 
attractive girl whom he normally 
paid a good deal of attention to. Be- 
ing a gentleman, ior example, he 
would always try to go just a little 
bit further than he Knew she f d allow 
and let her be the one to chase him 
home. 

But not tonight. Tonight, he was 
in an oriental trance. After they all 
left the club, Sally and Jim did their 
usual disappearing act in order to 
make a stop over at Jim's place. 
Fred took Rita to the apartment she 
shared with her sister. This was the 
moment for the friendly wrestling 
match, when one ot Fred's hands 
dove down while the other would 
attempt to climb. Rita braced her- 
self for the onslaught, thinking-as 
she had before-th&t one of these 
days she just might let him ha^e 
what he was after. 

Only, no onslaught carnet Fred 
kissed the indignant girl lightly on 
the cheek and went home to dream 
of belly dancers, 

The next morning he decided that 
life wouldn't be worth living unless 
he could at least meet Nella. He got 
the address of her hotel through the 
simple maneuver of calling the thea- 
tre and pretending to be a news- 
paper columnist. Using the same 
approach, he was able to arrange to 
visit her that same afternoon. 

Nella had a suite of two rooms at 
the Hotel Randolph, a lush modern- 
istic hostelry which catered mainly 
to middle-class tourists, travelling 
salesmen and show-business person- 
alities. When Nella opened the door, 
she was dressed in a neat and mod- 
est suit which tried its best to hide 
her natural charms. The suit was so 
unsuccessful in dimming her dazzle, 
however, that Fred did not even 
notice the small, mousy looking man 
who was sitting quietly in the comer 
until Nella introduced them, 

"This is Allan Grippe, my orches- 
tral arranger,'* she said. 

Fred felt an immediate twinge of 
jealousy which vanished as he shook 
hands witK- the man who seemed 


like a collection of oddly assorted 
animals. The hand clasp was fish- 
like, the face was owl-like as the 
arranger shifted back and forth on 
his feet like a nervous colt. 

Nella quickly got rid of this 
human zoo, and tossed the most 
overwhelming smile at Fred that 
he had ever caught, 

"Now, about that interview," she 
said. 

T . . , i f m afraid I came here under 
false pretenses," Fred admitted, 
nervously. 

“Qh?” 

“Yes. I . . , I saw you at the Cairo 
Room last night and 1 fell in love 
with you, there.” Those words, when 
repeated, may sound silly and un- 
convincing, But Fred put his whole 
heart and soul into them. He went 
on, too, telling her exactly how much 
he loved her and why. 

At first, Nella was angry. She had, 
after all, expected to have a nice 
write-up in the papers. But no wom- 
an can resist undiluted admiration 
for very long. And Nella was all 
woman. 

H Tm flattered," she murmured, at 
laat. "I’m truly flattered.” 

“No. Flease. I'm the one who is 
flattered, just to bo talking to you, 
here. Even if we never see each 
other again. Just to be able to keep 
the memory that you and I were 
once alone, together . . ." 

Nella fluttered her long, dark eye- 
lashes. 

"May I have one more favor?” 
Fred asked, hesitatingly. “I know 
it's presumptuou&r but . . ." 

"Yes? 11 

"May I have . . . one kiss? 11 

Nella nodded her head, regally, 
and Fred’s mouth brushed lightly 
against her delectable lips. At least 
it started out to be a light brush- 
Once Fred felt their lips touch, how- 
ever, every gentlemanly and/or shy 
impulse left him. His arms tightened 
about her as of their own volition. 
He clamped her against him and 
bore in bravely until a lack of 
oxygen made it impossible for him 
to go on. 

“My goodness/' Nella said, weak- 
ly, "you do have hidden talents, Mr. 
Brighten,” 

"You didn't mind?" 


V 


"I don't think so.” the girl said, 
opening her arms wide, “Let’s try it 
again and find out." 

Just at that moment there was a 
ring at the door. Nella stepped back, 
her eyes darting in panic. “Quick,” 
she said- "Tell me how I can get in 
touch with you,” 

"But . . /' 

The door bell rang again. It had 
an urgent sound to it. 

"Hurry.” 

Fred scribbled his address and 
phone number on a piece of paper 
and handed it to her. Nella stuffed 
it inside her bodice and opened the 
door, The largest man Fred had 
over seen walked into the room. He 
was dressed in an Eastern looking 
costume of baggy trousers and loose 
silk shirt. There was a turban on 
his head, carings in his ear-lobes 
and massive muscles in his arms. To 
top ofT everything else r he was 
carrying a short but wicked-looking 
crescent shaped sword. 

“What's going on here?" the in- 
truder asked in a deep, heavily ac- 
cented voice. 

'This is Mr. Brighten, Abdul/ 1 Nel^ 
la said, quickly, "He's a reporter." 

"Oh/ h said Abdul, looking Fred 
over with a hint of disappointment 
in his eyes. 

'Who , . . who are you?” Fred 
stuttered. 

“He’s my guardian," the girl said 
brightly, t 

Abdul's booming laughter rang 
through the room, "Yes, Her hus- 
band asked me to take care of her,” 

"Husband?” Fred squeaked. "I 
guess I'd better be leaving.” 

"It would be a, good idea.” 

“But before I go-, what is that 
thing you’re carrying?” Fred pointed 
at the curved blade, 

“My scimitar. It is very useful as 
a discourager of romance.” Abdul's 
laughter boomed, again. "After one 
quick stroke, a man is no longer 
intere&ted in love.” 

"Gcodby," Fred said, exiting hast- 
ily. Love was important, he decided. 
But the ability to make love even 
more so. 

When Fred reached his apartment, 
he had just about given up hope of 
ever seeing Nella again. He threw 
himself on his bed fCont. orap. 30J 


54 






^TT 






A "flower of the South/' Mona loves strolling by 
the ponds os she takes a tour of Ehe plantation. 



A city girl (she lives in Jackson), she found her- 
self quife stirred by the nostalgic surroundings 



Unlike most plantation houses, this one was built in English Tu- 
dor style. If was recently restored by family of Maria's friend. 


F OLLOWING in the footsteps of Mississippi's many fa- 
mous beauties, lovely Maria Prokaine plans to leave 
soon for New York City, where she hopes to begin a career 
in television. A college graduate, with a major in litera- 
ture, Maria developed a keen interest in William Faulkner, 
and when she was invited to visit the family’s plantation 
of a friend, not far from where the late, great writer lived, 
she jumped at the opportunity, 

The visit filied her with a keen sense of Southern his- 
tory and traditions which she hopes to take North with 
her. It r s a cinch that as soon as Maria reaches New York, 
she'll have men there exclaiming happily, ''She's what I 
like about the South,” ■ 


56 



<5 many beatifies from Mississippi, 

Mo rio plans to seek a TV career in New 
ork. The odds are good she'll soon 
be putting the vision into Revision, 


p - 


■ KyyggKZ ■ 


A 

Crying 
Need 
to 
Laugh 


SATIRE 


av HOOKR WfILKIMSOH 


t^rpHlS is a world of satire, a world where peo- 
pie are afraid of reality!" The speaker was 
Victor Hugo Snarff, one of the most intellectual 
newspaper editors the world has ever known. “In 
fact," the great man said, slamming the wall with 
his fist to emphasize the point, “-them jerks don’t 
know their backsides from their elbows !” 

T aat in his office, awed by the overpowering 
cogency of his argument, and glowed with pride. 
It was an honor, I felt, to work for such a man. 
He continued his tirade, “Dr. Angus Sheppard of 
Glasgow- University puts it this way ; 'The wide- 
spread satire in England and America today stems 
more from a fear of taking anything seriously 
than from a deep-seated protest against society’s 
frippery. 1 Indeed, I agree - the poor boobs are 
afraid of reality, so they build their own unreal 
world of satire. They make fun of everything we 
should hold dear: motherhood, the D.A/Et., tele- 
vision, cholesterol - Nothing is safe, nothing is 
sacred 1" His face went livid, “By heaven - they’ll 
he satirizing newspapers next!” 

I leaped to my feet. “Why* they’d never dare, 
Sir i As a cub reporter, I'll defend the sanctity 


of I tried to think of those things Fd defend. 

Mr, SnarfT threw an inkwell at me. “Oh, sid- 
down, fer Chrissake ! M He continued, “I want you, 
the best cub reporter on my staff, to track down 
this satire story; get the facts, find out who’s be- 
hind it. Who, that is, is undermining the very 
bulwarks upon which society stands by means of 
this most insidious device ever perpetrated by 
man or fiend. I believe you understand me.” One 
shaggy eyebrow rose up into his hairline, 

I didn’t, but I could guess. “Y— you mean- 
Communists?” I 

He nodded “Exactly, I been fighting them 
bastards for forty years. It was bad enough when I 
they took over Russia and then China, I didn't I 
mind so much when they wrecked Cuba and like | 
that. But this satire stuff- well, it’s time to really I 
fight back! They’re not going to make fun of my j 
newspaper!” I 

Mr. SnarfT’s paper is the Daily Monthly. It si 
called that because although it would like to be a | 
daily it comes out monthly. Mr. Snarff isn’t against I 
progress, exactly, but he thinks we're moving I 
ahead too fast, Y^ou know, automation and stuff, i 


58 


So he makes us write a]] our articles with crow 
quil] pens, and the paper is printed on an old hand 
press, which he got on sale when the museum 
burned down. As Mr, Snarff says, “Quality takes 
time, The people will wait a month for their daily 
paper if it’s a good one.” On this premise he built 
an empire that stretches from the 79th Street 
Yacht Basin almost to the George Washington 
Bridge. 

f Tll do my test, Sir,” I said, saluting. 

As I ran out, punching the clock as I did so, Mr. 
Snarff yelled, “A good job on this could mean a 
promotion for you. We might even give you your 
own waste basket. How long you been a cub re- 
porter, by the way?" 

"Since I was nineteen, Sir,” I said proudly, 

“And how old are you now r ?” 

"Thirty-seven." 

Mr, Snarff nodded and shook his head. “That 
must have taken real talent.” 

Elated at such praise, I lurched out into the 
teeming street, clutching my crow T quill pen to my 
breast. I resolved to justify my mentor's faith in 
me-I w r outd get at the root of this diabolic Red 
plot to undermine society by means of satire. The 
first place to go, I decided, would be the place 


where most of the great problems of the world 
were being considered and solved- where most of 
the world's great statesmen congregated. The 
United Nations, 

At the UN Security Council, I cornered a very 
distinguished -looking gentleman with an attache 
case and a very worried look on his face. He must, 
1 decided, be on the way to solve some problem of 
international calibre, “Sir,” I said, "would you 
care to comment on the latest Commie plot to 
undermine society? You know, the satire bit,” I 
poised my crow T quill above a sheet of foolscap. 

"Look, Bub," the distinguished chap said, 'Tm 
a letterhead salesman and 1 just sneaked in here 
to find the men’s room. Now will you get lost be- 
fore you make me ruin my only suit?" With that, 
he vvent hurrying down the marble corridor. I 
wished him luck. 

I then strode into the great hall where the 
Security Council was in session. In my pork pie 
hat., un pressed, unmatched tw r eed jacket and 
pegged slacks, I presume the guards mistook me 
for a delegate, because they did not molest me. 
Around me, the most distinguished men in the 
world were taking part in world government. On 
the podium, one was giving (Coni, on next page) 



r 


A CRYING NEED TO LAUGH 


a vital speech about disarmament. 
To prove their ability to concentrate 
on two things at once, many of the 
delegates were keeping one ear 
cocked to the speaker while engag- 
ing in games of poker, craps and 
spin-the-bottle. 

I sidled up to an elderly, obviously 
intellectual leader in the back row. 
It took a while to wake him up, but 
when he came to, I asked, “Do you 
believe. Sir, that if the satirists of 
the world were to unite, they might 
drive a helpless society to the far- 
ther reaches of the Universe?” 

The distinguished man took out a 
comb and ran it through his beard 
while gathering his thoughts. He said, 
“You, pal, don’t look as if you knew 
your goddam backside from your 
elbow. How’d you ever get in this 
place? Guard!” 

The guard came over. After listen- 
ing to both our stories, he said, 
“Sorry, you’ll have to go up to the 
balcony with the rest of the riff- 
raff.” And he made sure the man in 
the beard went, too, shoving him 
along with a hammerlock. When I 
left, the distinguished man was giv- 
ing a speech on how to run the space 
race. Since there was no microphone' 
in the balcony, he had to shout 
pretty loud. 

Disconsolate, I trudged out of the 
UN, wondering whether or not I 
should jump into the nearby East 
River. But that, I decided, would 
solve nothing; it would be an admis- 
sion of failure and would give the 
satirists a leg up on humanity. I had 
to lick this thing! 

Well, I decided, if the intellectuals 
didn’t know the answer, perhaps I 
should go to the people. I snapped my 
finger — of course! The grass roots! 
Perhaps their answers might not be 
couched in the same esoteric terms, 
but with their simple wisdom, might 
they not give me a more genuine 
answer to this grave question— an 
answer that the rest of mankind 
might understand? 

Coming up the steps of the Secu- 
rity Council toward me, dressed in 
the worst-looking rags — and with 
rags wrapped about his feet — was 
one of society’s dregs, a lost soul 
who, having been left bereft of all 
worldly goods by the rest of the 
world, was coming to the UN to— 
To what? To forgive the world, per- 
haps. Or possibly to make an im- 
passioned plea, from the balcony, for 
humanity to wake up before it was 
too late. My heart went out to the 
poor wretch as he held a newspaper- 
wrapped parcel closely to his body. 
His last possessions, doubtless. He 


would give me a straight answer, by 
heaven! 

I clapped a friendly hand to his 
shoulder. “Look here,” I said in a 
strong, encouraging voice, “there is 
a Communist plot to—” 

The poor fellow’s eyes popped 
open and he fell to his knees before 
me. He thrust out the newspaper- 
wrapped parcel. “I don’t know how 
you found out,” he jabbered almost 
incoherently, “—but I give up. Take 
the damn thing and throw it in the 
East River. It’s set to go off in thirty 
seconds!” 

Confused, I unwrapped the pack- 
age. Inside was an old alarm clock 
that was ticking away like anything. 
It was attached to a fuse buried in 
ten pounds of plastics explosive. Or 
maybe it was bread dough. Anyway, 
although I hated to ruin a perfectly 
good clock, I hurled the package onto 
the sidewalk, at which the ragged 
man fell over in a faint. Hailing a 
passing policeman, I turned the 
whole ridiculous mess over to him 
and continued my mission, still seek- 
ing a genuine member of the grass 
roots from whom to get my story. 

I found him, it appeared, late in 
the afternoon, after working my way 
to Times Square. There, resting my 
weary body at the base of Father 
Duffy’s statue, I cast my eyes sky- 
ward. Not to regard the tall build- 
ings, those hateful symbols of ad- 
vancement and detestable progress 
-but to scan the pigeons, those free 
creatures symbolizing, in their 
winged beauty, the soaring dream 
of peace which— oops! 

I took out my handkerchief. It 
would cost me a buck to get my pork 
pie hat cleaned! I resolved to write 
a letter to the New York Times, 
supporting the recently formed 
movement to rid the city of those 
filthy, lazy birds! 

At that moment I realized that I 
was not alone. Looking up, I per- 
ceived a man rubbing industriously 
at the head of Father Duffy with a 
cleaning fluid. Clad in faded blue 
jeans, he was quite evidently an 
honest workman, a toiler with his 
hands. No decadent statesman, he— 
no Commie bomb thrower, no sales- 
man with a weak kidney. No, this 
was the real article. A grass root! 
He, with his uncomplicated mind, 
would tell me true the answer I was 
getting desperate for. (It was damn 
near time to punch out.) 

“Holla,” I called, “I’m looking up 
this 'thing on satire. Would you care 
to comment on it?” 

He looked at his watch and, un- 
derstandably, continued to scrub 


Duffy’s head while speaking: “The 
profusion of satire today-and most 
of it, heaven help us, is atrocious 
farce or limp comedy-has resulted 
in the unusual phenomenon in which 
everybody is afraid to take issues, 
mores, criteria, the id, the psyche- 
the very stuff of life-seriously. It is 
symptomatic of the age— the fear of 
criticism, the fear of self, the fear of 
fear-and manifests itself in the col- 
lective, mass anesthesia prevailing 
in every stratum of society.” He 
spat on an especially stubborn spot 
and rubbed vigorously. 

I walked away in disgust, not to 
say disappointment. Of all the eight 
million people in New York, I had 
to pick on some kind of nut! 

Just when I was about to give up 
hope of getting my story-just as I 
conjured up visions of losing my job 
of nearly two decades before I re- 
ceived my new waste basket— I found 
him. Or, rather, her— for my bene- 
factor was, in truth, a girl-a bene- 
factress! She was walking along 42nd 
Street between 7th and 8th Avenues; 
because of the warmth of the day, 
she was clad in simple habille con- 
sisting of a thin, clinging skirt, a 
thin clinging blouse and mesh 
stockings that looked very fetching 
through the slit in her skirt. She 
was so very friendly, I simply had 
to stop and interview her. 

Time was running out. If I 
couldn’t get my satisfaction from 
The Man on the Street, I would get 
it from a Woman on the Street. 

“Do you,” I began, “have any 
strong ideas about the Commie plot 
to foment revolution through satire?” 

She leaned toward me and rubbed 
her chest against mine, breathing 
peppermint on me, “Honey, I got 
strong ideas, all right. In fact, just 
one look at your handsome mug and 
I’m practically drooling. Why don’t 
you come up to my room and we’ll 
talk about it?” 

This was wonderful! I had never 
before elicited such cooperation; 
never had it been so easy to get an 
interview! Before she changed her 
mind, however^ I hurried her up to 
her room which chanced to be in a 
nearby hotel. Once there, Ida (her 
name) took off all her clothes in a 
gesture of innocent freedom. “Let’s 
get comfortable,” she said, “—and 
let’s get it over with.” 

I told her I too was in a hurry. 
While she undressed me, she started 
the interview for me, which I 
thought was nice of her. And it was 
frightfully warm in that verdampt 
room. “I’ll bet,” she said, “that 
you’ve had plenty of (Cont. on p. 78) 


60 





Keyed Up 


Dondi Penn didn't quite fallow Horace Greeley's 



advice to go West (she went to Key West instead), 


but she's found sufficient wide-open spaces to 


satisfy any girl— or man. What's more, her choice 


is proving the Key to a bright, new future for her. 


One of Miami's lop models, Dondi used 
part of her earnings to invest in one of 
Key West's newly built motels. Already 
the investment is paying off— in free 
vocations, whenever she desires one. 


See next page 











A native of Floridq, Dondi has visited the Keys many times in her girihood, and is attached to the area. Her 
attitude can he summed up thuslyr Miami is a great piace to work, but for pfayirtg, the Keys are fine and "Dondi." 


Dondi ponders her future, happy she has found the right key to security. At the saime time, the 
presence of this beautiful miss provides an unexpected dividend for the residents of Key West. 



Those legendary athletes also showed 


S PORTS FANS with a touch of nostalgia tend to exag- 
gerate the performances of the old time greats. We 
have giants among us today in everything from baseball 
to lawn tennis. Rut when it comes to those extracurricu- 
lar activities* away from the playing fields and prize 
rings you have to acknowledge the supremacy of the 
old-time athletes. Take an Ingemar Johansson, with 
bis training camp cuti.es, or a Bo Belinsky, with his 
Hollywood fun and games, and put him alongside a 
Jack Dempsey, a Babe Ruth or a Barney Oldfield and 
you’ll $ea how sadly lacking our own day is in real 
authentic wild men. This short exercise in looking back- 
ward should illustrate the 
point. 

When it comes to wild and 
uninhibited lives led by boxers 
the title almost certainly goes 
to a middleweight named Stan- 
ley Ketchel. Ketchel, fondly 
known as the Michigan Assas- 
sin,. held the middleweight 
crown back in the days before 
World W r ar I when boxing was 
just barely legal. Ho trained in 
a Fifth Avenue mansion, liked 
to have at least a quartet of 
chorus girls with him at all 
times, had his wardrobe made 
by a Broadway theatrical cos- 
tumer, often fought while un- 
der the influence of opium and 
was shot to death at the age 
of twenty -four while sleeping 
with the lady friend of . a Mis- 
souri farmhand. 

Before he began his boxing 
career Ketchel had been a 
bouncer, One of his managers 
once got him a Phi Beta Kappa 
key from a hockshop. but the 
Michigan Assassin was never 
able to cut much of a swath as 
an intellectual. Despite has 
shortcomings and excesses 
Ketchel was one of the great 
boxers of his era. He even 
fought in the heavyweight class at times and he made 
a fair showing against the champ of the day, Jack 
Johnson. But Ketchel's outside interests often worked 
against Mb ring career. Once in Philadelphia he decided 
to remain in a saloon and skip a scheduled fight. The 
fight fans were unhappy at this turn of events and 
organized a posse which ran Ketchel out of town. 

The most notable manager Ketchel ever had was the 
fabled Wilson Mizner. Mizner was a combination play- 
boy, con man, ex -Klondike sharper and angle worker. 
Ffe wrote movies. Broadway plays and short stories. 
His brother built Palm Beach, Florida. Milner, accord- 
ing to one legend, acquired the managership of the 
Michigan Assassin In a rather unusual way. Ketchel 




Stanley Ketchel 


was being managed by a sportswriter and cartoonist 
with the improbable name of Hype Igoe. While Igoe and 
Ketchel were traveling home from a fight Ketchel, who 
had a great fondness for Mizner, appeared in Igoe’s 
Pullman drawing room and set two six guns in front 
of the small dapper sportswriter. He said he had decided 
he would like Wilson Mizner to be his manager from 
thence forward. Igoe then made one of the most tactful 
remarks of all time. "That's fine,” he said. 

It was while under Mizner s wing that Ketchel had 
his training quarters in a palatial mansion on Fifth 
Avenue. The mansion had been built by a man named 
Yerkes, who was called the 
Traction King because of his 
knack for making fortunes out 
of things like the Chicago L, 
which ho also built. Mizner got 
hold of the mansion by the 
simple stratagem of marrying 
the widow r Yerkes, a woman 
some twenty years his senior. 
He turned part of the house 
into a gym and Ketchel, when 
he trained at all, trained there. 
Many a morning the high so- 
ciety Mrs. Yerkes found her 
hallways the scene of a parade 
of well -curved, long-legged 
follies girls or lowbrowed 
Bronx-accented bruisers. Or 
both. The Mizner -Yerkes mar- 
riage did not last. 

Ketchel’s training was often, 
interrupted by his fondness 
for opium. Minuet would occa- 
sionally have to track him 
down to some den where he 
would find him with an opium 
pipe and a couple of well-built 
ladies. The Assassin also made 
many trips to the bordellos of 
the day. Sometimes, though, 
his sentimental side would pre- 
vent him from fully enjoying 
the inhabitants. Once he spent 
a whole evening crying over a 
sad painting on a bawdy house wall. 

In the fall of 1310 Ketchel was sent to a farm in the 
vicinity of Springfield, Missouri, to get himself in con- 
dition. There were few shapely showgirls in Springfield 
in those days and it was hoped that Ketchel would be 
able to keep his mind on getting into trim. Instead he 
got into bed with the only woman around the farm, 0 
lady called Goldie Hurts, This soon caused a man claim- 
ing to be Mr. Hurtz to get down his .22 rifle and shoot 
the Michigan Assassin dead. Ketchel was twenty-four 
when his wild and woolly life come to this wild and 
woolly end. 

A few years later Jack Dempsey came along and he 
had some wild times in and out of the prize ring. Com- 




64 



tremendous prowess in bedroom sport 


pared to Ketch el, of course. Dempsey's escapades seem 
a little pale. But he certainly got around. Besides his 
good times in New York he was also much in demand 
in Hollywood. While he was heavyweight champ he 
often earned $ 1,000 a week there. Not as a fighter but 
as an actor. The Mansssa Mauler starred in a string of 
serials and full length melodramas. He attended movie- 
land parties with Charlie Chaplin, Wallace Reid, Doug- 
las Fairbanks, Mary Pickford. He eventually married 
one of the most attractive, if not talented, motion picture 
actresses of the 20s, Estelle Taylor. Dempsey did all 
right as a carouser, though maybe he never had quite 
the right attitude. Summing up 
□Jl the Hollywood parties of 
that wild decade he later said, 

"If they were orgies — I sure 
■ didn’t know, 1 ' 

The hell -raiser's hall of fame 
wouldn’t be complete without 
Babe Ruth, Back in the roaring 
twenties he broke- most every 
baseball record. Out of his 
Yankee uniform he did pretty 
well, too. Ruth's gargantuan 
flair led him to an odd assort- 
ment of excesses. He overdid 
it in everything from hot dogs 
end soda pop to show girls and 
Cadillacs, using up great quan- 
tities of all of them. 

Babe Ruth was earning 
roughly a $100,000 a year in his 
good years. From 1020 to 1929 
he bought from one to three 
Cadillacs a year. He had a ten- 
dency io drive the cars into 
things or to overturn them. 

During the baseball season he 
scorned the usual three buck 
room the Yankees provided 
and would set himself up in a 
$100 a day suite. Wherever he 
was staying he was a favored 
customer of bootleggers and 
home brew peddlers. In fact, 
the man who Jater became his 
manager disguised himself as a moonshine delivery man, 
figuring it was the only sure way of getting in to see Ruth. 

By the middle 20s Ruth wasn't In any great shape. 
He'd added a fondness for horse racing to his other off 
the diamond hobbies. Two weeks of picking them wrong 
at Oriental Park cost Ruth nearly $50,000. Ii was about 
this time that he was suspended from the Yankees and 
given a large fine. Some say this suspension shocked him 
and made him tone down. Even toned down, Babe Ruth 
continued to live a life about twice as hectic as that of 
anybody in baseball today. 

The most famous racing driver of all time was Barney 
Oldfield, It was well over a half century ago that Old- 
field, with a &fub of a cigar clenched in his teeth, started 


burning up the dirt tracks and making records. Such Ls 
his reputation that even today a traffic cop is likely to 
ask a speeder if he thinks he's Barney Oldfield. It wasn't 
merely in his noisy racing cars that Oldfield was a fast 
man. In his rush through life Oldfield acquired three 
wives. He even came back and married one of them 
again. In what is obviously an understatement one of the 
Oldfield wives admitted, "He's a devil with the ladies." 

Oldfield was a great frequenter of the free-swinging 
bawdy houses of the day. Once in Milwaukee he invited 
£ friend to attend one of the city's better establishments 
with him. This friend was the famous daredevil pilot of 
the day, Lincoln Beachey. 
Beachey was afraid he might 
be recognised and was reluc- 
tant to join Oldfield, Barney 
assured him that even the King 
of Sweden could slip in and 
out of this house of joy without 
anyone knowing it. So Beachey 
let himself be convinced. Just 
inside the door of the place the 
piano player jumped up and 
gave Beach oy a greeting filled 
with warm recognition. He 
then, in honor of Beachey 's 
flying fame, hoisted him and 
began spinning him over his 
b ead. Oldfield proceeded to 
knock the big piano player 
across the room, out the door 
and into the street. Historians 
do not say whether Oldfield 
and Beachey then joined the 
ladies but it is probable. 

Bordellos and saloons were 
Barney Oldfield's favorite sites 
for staging impromptu brawls. 
He wasn't always as lucky as 
he had been with the air-mind- 
ed piano player. In fact, Old- 
field had a glass jaw and many 
of his barroom bouts ended 
with him in a prone position 
among the sawdust. To com- 
pensate for this he frequently 

took Jim Jeffries, the ex -heavy weight champ of the 
world, along with him on his prowls. 

Oldfield liked saloons so well that for a time he owned 
and managed one. In the uninhibited days just before 
World War I Barney Oldfield ran a joint in the heart 
of Los Angeles. Among the regular customers were 
some of Hollywood's best known fast living types, 
notably Wally Reid and Fatty Arbucklc. In our own 
mild era athletes still run bars and cafes. But none of 

them would dare approach Oldfield in the manner of 

operating a place. His favorite bit of humorous byplay 
was the Mickey Finn and OldficJd delighted in setting 
up a free drink for a close pal and then waiting until 
the friend fell over. (Cont . on p. 74} 



65 





At the Crazy Horse Saloon 
where she performs, this 
13 -year-old siren already 
has ca vgbt the eyes of 
Italian and French film 
makers. They’re convinced 
she can put lots of motion 
into motion pictures* 


Swept up in the life of a Parisian 
star, Jeanne reads up on theatre 
gossip at every chance (top), Even 
before going on stage, she’ll fuss 
over each detail in her appearance r 


Ever since she 


was very little, 


Jeanne Gournean 


dreamed of being 


a star in show 


biz. The day her 


dream came true 


she could say... 








Jeanne was able to reach top 
hilling an the strength of her 
sultry tinging and eye-opening 
dancing. Paris h acclaiming 
its new -horn star who couldn’t 
have begun life on a gayer note. 


Today, the 


big thrill of 


her life is 


being a dream 


to the men 


who come to 


watch her. 



AFFAIR IN PARIS 

(Continued from yxtge tl) 

the pup, and because of the expres- 
sion on her face, that held all of the 
compassion and tenderness of a hun- 
dred saints, I fell in love with her. 
A Mercedes-Benz gunned forward, 
leaving two dollars worth of rubber 
on the asphalt, and splashed dirty 
water on her, and a rasping word 
escaped her tender lips' then she 
laughed lightly and another big slice 
w T as revealed. And so it wont, with 
time pressed together like an ac- 
eordian and making the most beau- 
tiful sounds. 

In the apartment 1 turned on only 
one orango light that was so obvi- 
ously there for just that, The cocoltes 
always laughed spontaneously. This 
one didn’t laugh. And she didn't 
laugh at the other props— the futuris- 
tic furniture that was so close to 
the floor that you would hardly trip 
over it on roller skates: the four-way 
hi-fi speaker that looked like a 
chandelier; and the thi'ee-dimen- 
sional nude with the light behind it 
that made it seem to move. You 
know the devices; 1 had them all. 

We stood there in the center of the 
room, a few inches apart, just staring 
for a few seconds and breathing 
kind of hard, Then J lifted the mat- 
tress off the box spring and threw 
it onto the door. 1 threw all the 
cushions and pillows I could find 
onto the floor about the mattress. 
She helped, until we had what 
amounted to a wall -to- wall bed. She 
threw herself down into the middle 
of it, kicking off her sandals and 
wiggling deliciously into it. 

I joined her there and, gasping a 
little from the exertion and all, we 
touched each other’s cheek. Our ex- 
ploring fingers, like searching for 
something in the New York Tele- 
phone Company's Yellow Pages, 
marched up and down the hills and 
valleys of our clothing and, shakily, 
beyond distant summits and ranges. 
At length she sat up; I understood 
what she wanted. 

With due control, I unbuttoned 
her blouse. We made no ritual of it; 
we just undressed each other. For 
Once, J did not need any false stim- 
ulation of alcohol. Even cigarettes, 
we didn’t need. 

When we were altogether bare 
( notice how I say bare and not 
“nude”) we knelt together with only 
our knees touching for a time. Then 
we pushed up off our haunches, 
slowly, so that, as we rose, our flesh 
mingled inch by inch throughout its 
entire expanse, from knee to thigh, 
to pelvis, to tummy, to chest— and 
as our lips came together, finally, we 
enclosed each other in an embrace 
that joined our \bodies, our minds 
and whatever else it is that makes 
people what they are. For, reaching 


behind her, down low, I lifted her 
slightly, drew her very close, then 
lowered her, and we were one. A 
uni l- A solitary thing as a proton 
and an electron are a solitary thing. 

We fell over onto our sides, still 
lucked in that one-ness that few 
couples, through history, could have 
known. 

First, think of all of your greatest 
sensual experiences, one by one— the 
first taste of ice cream as a kid; the 
first lime, when a teenager, you felt 
the warmth of a girl’s thigh; the all- 
over massage in the dressing room 
after a hard game uf handball: the 
rich wininess of fine coffee; the 
smells of gasoline, tobacco, wood 
shavings and pine needles; all of 
hem. Then think back on the very 
best, most exciting, completely 
stupefactifying sex experience of 
your life - 1 mean the most, the one 
you compare all oth ers with a nd 
wish to God it could be again. Okay, 
now, if you can, imagine all of these 
superlative times jammed together 
in one big sensual H-bomb and 
exploded. 

That’s how it was with her. 

When it was done, we lay side by 
'side, not touching, and allowed the 
perspiration to evaporate from our 
bodies. At length our breathing 
quieted and we looked at one an- 
other, with simultaneous turning of 
heads. I craned my neck slightly and 
kissed her still -damp forehead and 
her lips brushed my throat. 

Until this moment, maybe an hour 
after we had met — maybe more than 
that, but not much-how many words 
had we spoken? How few? Yet, un- 
til then words were not necessary; 
they are probably the most inade- 
quate means of communication. 
When, by a look, an eyebrow that 
moves a single millimeter, the in- 
finitely gentle pressure of a fingertip 
or tip of a tongue, you can tell some- 
one she is the end-all and be-all and 
warp- and- woof and tick-tack-toe of 
all creation —who needs words? 

And so, when you don't meed them, 
that’s when words are heat. She said, 
“Well,” Can you imagine a thing like 
that — a single word with no Intrinsic 
meaning of its own when used as an 
epithet — sounding like a sermon? Or 
a two-hour speech of appreciation? 
Or a prayer of thanksgiving? 

I said, “Some people can read your 
palms and tell you plenty about 
yourself. ” 

In the orange glow, her eyes were 
sparkly. “Sorry, T don't want to 
know my future.” 

I continued, “And other people 
.read bumps on skulls.” 

“What do my bumps tell you?" she 
asked. 

I ran my eyes down her body, a 


privilege that many a voyeur would 
gladly pay a month's wages for, or 
immolate himself or cut somebody’s 
throat “They tell me there’s no to- 
morrow." 

“Tomorrow is next year?" 

She understood. So for awhile we 
didn’t talk any more except to mur- 
mur those sibilant, whispering, gasp- 
ing syllables of appreciation, intel- 
ligible only to lovers in the moment 
of loving. 

We knew there was no need to 
hurry. We had faith in ourselves. 
We gave names to the stages of our 
love, and that first frenetic, nuclear 
coming together was called "pre- 
historic.” Then came '’hero-heroine,” 
which all ascribers to the Romeo and 
Juliet syndrome blow their brains 
out about because it doesn’t really 
exist, Except for us. For us, it 
existed. Now the pace slowed slight- 
ly; our gestures and every movement 
were genller, more time consuming; 
we tried to please one another with 
soft caresses rather than urgent tac- 
tual demands- And when, eventually, 
I mounted the balcony to claim my 
love, it was with a tenderness in 
sharp contrast to that which had 
gone before . . . 

Shortly afterward, she leapt to her 
feet and sylph -like, dashed away. 
“There are, after all, other appe- 
tites," she taunted. She made toast 
and coffee. While 1 waited, 1 turned 
on the hi-fi set. 

Soon the Girl was on the mattress 
next to me again, with one of my 
shirts on, and there has never been a 
more adorable thing viewed by liv- 
ing man. We finished the coffee and 
toast and then we took a shower 
together. 

If you have never taken a shower 
with a girl - or, in the case of a girl, 
a man — then you are living on one 
lung or have been in a grievous 
accident. Or maybe you don’t own a 
shower. 1 swear, there's something 
about the warmth of the water that 
soothes you right back into the Age 
of Fishes, when we were all One 
with the Sea. We washed one an- 
other's back, and all over, and 
there's something about the soap, 
too, and it has nothing to do with 
the Age of Fishes, ole buddy! T mean, 
you get all soaped up and then you 
clinch and — well, I humbly refer to 
this one as “children at play." 

But be careful of the soap. 

rf Well, again, and a voo-voo-vou 
to you, m'am, if you dig me. You 
are now toweled briskly dry, and 
your peachy skin glows and tingles 
and you feel— how old?— about four- 
teen, fifteen? Sixteen. Okay, I feel 
seventeen. I also feel, oh, not tired, 
exactly, or drained, but - content. 
Thus r will lie here and you will 
arouse me slowly., slowly, almost 
bashfully, and we will build again. 
We will build a great tower, brick 
by brick, you and I, whose summit 


6a 



we will gain in half a century," 
Those were the words I uttered, so 
help me. 

We loved like teenagers, then, It 
was charming. But, oh, the poor, in- 
complete, weighted, half-buttocked, 
frightened creatures! No wonder 
they try to hasten their growing up 

- and, brother, does haste make 
waste! 

Our fifth stage was called, "proper 
adults." And by "proper" I mean 
proper by our standard*, not by the 
standards of proper adults. Proper 
French adults, maybe, or proper 
adult adults. We took our time and 
everything w&s planned, everything 
calculated. That Is, I first tickled her 
large toe. Then my fingers traveled 
up her leg - the back of it — to her 
lusciously swelling hips. Then the 
whole thing all over again. But this 
time substitute the lips for the finger- 
tips. Enough. It lasted for hours, but 
this is still the age of hypocrisy. 
Simply by saying the world is not 
yet ready for a description of adult 
lovomaklng is to describe it. 

It was the best. 

We slept for awhile, but sleep was 
the only need that was not a desire. 
We curbed it drastically; so that a 
couple of hours later, with the day, 
we awoke fresh and vigorous. Break- 
fast - a simple thing consisting of - 
more coffee and toast. 

What I did then, was, I seized one 
of my shoes and hurled it with ex- 
pert aim at that orange light that 
hung overhead. The light flew half- 
way across the room. She was fright- 
ened for a moment, but I said, Ff It h s 
okay, doll— it was time for that.” 
So we lay on our backs and talked 
for a while' then we turned to one 
another, and experienced a "quasi- 
philosophic," relationship. Who can 
really know a woman without ex- 
ploring the essences of her beliefs 
and convictions? 

Now the shadows grew long again. 
What came next came slowly, and 
there was some doubt that it would 
come at all. Almost no movement, 
and in the dusk, which lengthened 
as we labored, gloomy darks and 
greys and pools of black fell, so that 
this was like a resurgence from 
death. A happy death, to be sure — 
but nevertheless, death. 

I felt myself falling into a vast 
pool of happiness — no, softness. 
Contentment? Joy? Gemuetlicheit? 
What? A combination of all of them 

— a liquid kind of balm that effected 
all of my senses. I ftU that life was 
complete, that it could hold no more 
pleasures for me after this. 

I knew what love was. I knew 
what living was. I knew, I knew, I 
knew. 

We rose. -at last, and dressed. All 
without a word. On her face was an 
expression Vthat might bo called 
seraphic. 

When she left, shortly after dress- 


ing, it was with the shortest, most 
innocent of kisses and a smile that 
held in it all of the wonder that any 
woman has ever held for a mart; all 
of the appreciation. All of the love. 

I sat in the big armchair and 
watched her go. I knew that she 
hadn't told me her name. I knew 
there was no way for me to find it. 
Nor did she know mine. And still I 
let her go. 

It was like surgery in which tny 
brain was transplanted — and after 
which the anesthetic never wore off, 

Here in New York, where I have 
since returned from Paris, there is 
no orange light bulb any more, T 
don't need it. The “artsy" beatnik 


impotency and sterility. Vitamin D— 
an important property of the much- 
publicized chloresterol — affects the 
sex hormones. And Vitamin E — 
sometime* called the potency vita- 
min— has been proven essential to 
both male and female functions. 

Fat people are almost always lack- 
ing in one or more of these vitamins. 
However, putting aside vitamins and 
the other physical factors, as well, 
obesity might still result in a waning 
.sex urge, The mental make-up of 
modem man and his attitudes toward 
society which have been conditioned 
from birth are responsible for this. 

A woman can put on some avoir- 
dupois and still be regarded as 
“pleasingly plump," hut the man is 
thought to be "getting flabby." Stout 
women appeal to many men; they 
are considered curvier; their bulges 
are looked upon as feminine and 
sometimes sexy. But the stout man is 
a laughing stock to todays female; 
he is considered grotesque; his 
weightiness is thought unmasculine, 
even occasionally identified with 
homosexuality. 

Sometimes consciously, almost al- 
ways subconsciously, such evalua- 
tions are accepted by the fat man 
himself in today 1 f s world. This is the 
first step in the development of the 
neurotic syndrome which accom- 
panies obesity. The other steps fol- 
low swiftly. 

The overweight male looks at 
himself as a laughable, even an un- 
worthy lover. This, naturally, kills 
off his aggressiveness where sex is 
concerned. He becomes self- con- 
scious about his body and afraid to 
have anyone else see it. Because sex 
usually involves a degree of nudity, 
he steers shy of it in order to avoid 
exposing his obesity, 

Sigmund Freud himself, as well as 
many psychiatrists who followed 
him, recognized the dangers of eating 
as a form of sexual sublimation. And 
sublimation is exactly what the fat 
man does when he stuffs himself in 
lieu of sex, Freud pointed out the 


furniture has been replaced by solid 
artifacts from Macy's and Gimhel's. 

I don't care. 

Yet, it's strange. Before that won- 
drous 24-hours; that unforgettable 
"whole" day,. I'd have given my right 
arm and left leg to get any one of 
the chicks who now parade to my 
Macy-fied, GimbeJ-fied pad. They 
throw off their mink stoles, or their 
gingham blouses or their denim 
shirts (whatever their style may be) 
and they sigh, scream, cry, shout or 
just plain ask me to take them. 

And I do take them. 

But thanks to that 24-hour day, 
three years ago. I'll never give a 
damn again. # 


fact that "the organs of nutrition . . . 
may serve in yielding sexual excite- 
ment,” 

Thus the fat man finds himself on 
a merry-go-round of his own design. 
His obesity makes him shy of sex. 
And his sex frustration drives him 
to the kitchen for the midnight snack 
which compounds his obesity. It's a 
vicious cycle with pork chops win- 
ning out over passion every time. 

However, eating to the point of 
overweight is not the only way a 
man's intake can reduce his sexual 
output. Many a Skinny Schuyler can 
be seen to fast away his lustiness as 
well, and here's how: 

With many women, prematurely 
grey-haired men and unattractive, 
yet grey hair can be prevented-in- 
deed, there are cases where grey 
hair has even been restored to its 
original color!-hy proper diet. Dr, 
Gulbrande Lunde and Dr, Hans 
Kringstad, two Norwegians, found 
that pantothenic acid, one of the 
newer B vitamins, was a strong grey 
heir deterrent. Dr, Agnes Fay Mor- 
gan of the University of California 
found that its lack caused black- 
haired rats to turn grey in six to 
eight weeks. And Dr. S, Ansbacher 
of the Squibb Institute for Medical 
Research has found that another B 
vitamin, para-aminobenzoic acid, in 
combination with pantothenic acid, 
has caused "''a marked darkening" of 
hair in greying human beings 1 

These substancess are found in 
whole wheal, wheat bran and liver. 
Adding them to the diet will go a 
long way toward preventing grey- 
ness. These foods will also help 
prevent, baldness because of the vita- 
mins mentioned, as well as another 
substance present in them— inositol. 

Baldness, or grey hair f can be 
overlooked by many females, but an 
unattractive skin rarely is. Excessive 
pimples, acne, psoriasis, red blotches 
and many other skin conditions are 
anathema to the female of the 
species. Quite wrongly, women tend 
to look on such conditions as proof 


ARE YOU EATING YOURSELF SEXLESS? 

{Continued from page 31} 


69 


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of a lack of cleanliness. As a result, 
the male victim of such eruptions 
may himself begin to feel unclean 
because of them. Actually, in the 
great majority of instances, pimples 
are caused by improper eating. In- 
deed, such conditions are usually 
the first signs of diet deficiency, and 
physicians have achieved great suc- 
cess in treating skin blemishes by- 
prescribing corrected diets. 

Next tc physical attractiveness, 
personality is most often the deter- 
minant in making the grade with the 
girls. What effect does what you eat 
have on your personality in this re- 
spect? A recent experiment at the 
Mayo Clinic indicates that it has 
everything to do with it. 

Under the supervision of Dr. Rus- 
sell M. Wilder, chairman of the 
Nutrition Committee of the National 
Research Council, a group of charm- 
ing young girls were put on a diet 
deficient in thiamin. The result was 
that each of them underwent certain 


similar changes. They changed from 
being self-confident to self-conscious, 
from lively to languorous, from 
graceful to gawky, from scintillating 
to sad. Where once they had been 
the type of females men flock to, 
they now became woeful wallflowers 
who drew nary a whistle. 

This experiment would have 
worked out the same with a group 
of men. The male personality is also 
affected by what he eats. And his 
personality can't help hut have an 
effect on his relations with the fair 
sex. 

These are only & few of the many 
ways in which the things you cat— 
or don't eat -may affect your sex 
life. They serve to demonstrate the 
variety of ways in which a man may 
eat himself sexless. So if you’re hav- 
ing problems in this area, don't jump 
to the conclusion that youTe losing 
your virility. It could be just some- 
thing you ate! 0 


BEDROOMS AREN'T FOR BOVSCOUTS 

('Continued from page 22) 

me home a moose to cook for dinner and even in that unromantic outfit 


instead of going to your stupid office. 
Oh, why aren’t other men like him?’- 1 

Approximately one week later, the 
, object of this female admiration was 
eating a dinner of filet mignon which 
had been carefully charcoal- broiled 
for him on a portable brazier. The 
cook had just served the dinner and 
Craig was free to admire the scenery 
which surrounded the air-condi- 
tioned tents, the jeeps and the other 
paraphernalia of his camp. 

“Ah,” Craig said, finishing up the 
final remains of his steak, "This is 
the life." 

“You could say that," his guide, 
Amos Carter, replied, “Will you he 
wanting me to go out hunting for 
you again, tomorrow?" 

"Yes. Of course. I have to get home 
with a big hag of game, don’t I?” 

"Sure you do.” 

Craig turned back to his table and 
concentrated on his cheese-cake and 
coffee. Suddenly, he perked up his 
head. "What's that noise?" he asked. 

“I don't know. Maybe it's one of the 
Indians," 

f Tndians?" 

<r Yes. There are a number of reser- 
vations nearby, and sometimes a few 
of the Indians come around here to 
hunt.” 

“Oh,” Craig answered. He was a 
little worried until he remembered 
that Indians didn't take scalps any 
more. Or did they? 

He was about tc ask the guide when 
the Indian, himself, appeared at the 
camp. Or rather herself. For aa she 
approached, it became very obvious 
that she was female, and as young, 
pretty arid, well-stacked a female a& 
Craig had ever seen. The girl was 
dressed in blue- jeans and a T-shirt, 


her charms were self-evident. 

Craig stood up and lifted his right 
hand the way he'd been told to in 
Hollywood, recently, when he was 
making a Western. 'How, 1 ' he said. 

"How do you do,” the girl replied. 
“You must be Bobby Craig,” 

“You . , . you know me . . 

“Of course, t even wrote a paper 
on you for my sociology class when I 
w&s in college." 

ll Oh,”' Craig said, hopefully. “And 
now you want an interview?” 

"Are you putting me on? What I 
want from you is. what every other 
woman in the world wants.” Her eyes 
iit up and a slow smile spread acro&s 
her face. 

"Don’t you think we'd be more com- 
fortable in your tent," she went on, 
paying no attention to the other men 
who were shooting looks of pure awe 
and envy at Craig, 

Craig didn’t move or speak. He 
didn't trust himself. 

The girl's expression turned into 
a frown and she eyed him specu- 
latively. “Or perhaps all those stories 
about you aren't true, after all!" 

For one tempting moment, Craig 
was going to say that she was right. 
Whet difference did it make what she 
thought of him? 

Then he realized that he could 
never keep it quiet. If she didn't tell, 
the members of his own camping 
party would. The newspapers would 
take it up, there would be guarded 
hints in all the columns. He shud- 
de i ed. From across space, the hand 
of Matty Friar seemed to point an 
admonishing finger at him. He was 
lost. 

“Of course the stories are true, my 
dear," he said, valiantly. “Step inside 


70 




with me," he added reluclantly. 

Once in the lent, he drew the girl 
to him and helped her off with her 
things. He looked her over, taking 
in the full breasts with their hard, 
pointed nipples, the slim thighs . . .. 
Perhaps this wouldn't he so painful, 
after all. One more time . . . 

“My name is Gloria," the girl said, 
as she slid her body against his, 

A little later, he was looking at her 
with admiration, “You were marv- 
elous," he said. "Absolutely wonder- 
ful." 

She smiled at him with apprecia- 
tion, "I owe you an apology. Those 
stories about you weren't wrong. 
Everything they say about you is 
true. The others are going to be 
more eager than ever when 1 tell 
them." 

“What others?” Craig asked, alarm 
showing in his voice. 

“My sisters.” 

tL Your sisters?" 

"Yes. And their friends. And their 
mothers. In fact every female in the 
village who's of an age to appreciate 
you." 

“But . , . but . , , I can't! I have to 
go hunting." 

H Tve watched your camp, Bobby. 
You don't hunt. In fact," she said, 
sweetly, "there is only one weapon 
I can think of that you're qualified to 
handle." j, 

"I don't care," Craig said, panic 
stricken. "I just won't!” 


“Ah, but you will. You see, we've 
thought everything out. We felt you 
might balk at a tow of the other 
women. They're not , . .well, speaking 
frankly, they’re not quite as roman- 
tically put together as I am. So we 
all got together and decided that I 
should see you first." 

“And?” Craig asked, waiting for 
the stinger he knew was coming. 

“And if I were to go back and tell 
my father and brothers what we did 
they wouldn’t like it one bit. Indeed, 
you wouldn’t like it.” 

r Td deny everything.” 

"Don't be silly. The men outside 
saw us— and with your reputation, 
who’d believe you?" 

"And your brothers would . . . er 
. , . go on the war path?” 

“I truly shudder to think of the 
condition you'd be in when they fin- 
ished f ” she said, and then went on 
in a more cheerful tone, “But why 
think about such unpleasant things. 
This won't be so bad for you. From 
everything 1 hear about you, you 
must be missing all your girls, ter- 
ribly.” 

J, Oh, Yes, 1 ' Craig answered in a 
low, faltering voice. “Terribly,” 

“Good. Because once we get you 
finished with my village, there’s a 
neighboring one a few miles away, a 
third just over that hill and a fourth 
and fifth not too far from . . .” 

But Craig wasn’t listening any- 
more. He had just fainted. % 



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71 



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i#y ardvt NOW. 


Jn 1958, the Court reaffirmed its 
position when it overturned the 
Post Office's ban of a nudist maga- 
zine, jJunsftitie and Health. In hand- 
down the decision, the Justices did 
no more than to cite the Roth case. 
However, a prominent New York 
lawyer explained to this reporter: 
^be reasons were obvious. In the 
Supreme Court's eyes, the me gamine 
under question displayed nudes in a 
normal, healthy manner and intend- 
ed to do nothing else but.” 

Nevertheless the question con- 
tinues to arisen When is a nude 
picture obscene and when not? To 
some, the answer may seem obvious, 
and in the case of so-called "hard 
core pornography” it probably is. Bin 
what about borderline cases? Here, 
a jurist has to make hjs own de- 
cisions, and as one lawyer pointed 
out, the idea of a judge poring over 
pictures of nudes, while trying to de- 
cide which of them are and which 
aren't dirty dees have elements of 
comedy. 

In order to avoid this, the Supreme 
Court proceeded to lay down other 
guide lines. To be obscene a work 
must be clearly offensive and with- 
out any redeeming social purpose. 

In this light, should a book that, 
offends a w r ide segment of the public 
be felt to provide some insight or 
information, or inspire beauty or 
thought, then it could not be re- 
garded as obscene. 

Why were such court decisions 
handed in 11157 and 1558, but not 
before? The reason, according to 
most authorities, is that while tbo 
Supreme Court interprets the Con- 
stitution, it also reflects changing 
social attitudes. This was seen in the 
civil rights cases of the past few 
years when it overturned its own 
decisions of many years standing. 

The same is true with the Courts 
obscenity rulings. 

The truth is, our ideas about what 
is nasty and unfit for public con- 
sumption have changed drastically 
since the 1520s. Most people as- 
sumed then that a picture of a naked 
girl would not only send a young 
man off his rocker, but might cause 
him to commit a sex crime. 

Today. w T e know such things don't 
happen that way. No study yet made 
has succeeded, in showing any con- 
nection between juvenile delin- 
quency and nude pictures (cinematic 
or still). In fact, many psychiatrists 
believe that if a man doesn't enjoy 
looking at the soft curves of a shape- 
ly nude, he is more likely to be found 
abnormal. 

What about the so-called hard- 
core pornography? Isn't exposure to 
guch works at least potentially dan- 


gerous? Some authorities say no — 
not even should the reader have a 
sick mind to begin with. Dr. Ben- 
jamin Karpman. the chief psycho- 
therapist at St. Elisabeth Hospital, 
Washington, D. C,, was quoted as 
saying: ''Contrary to popular mis- 
conception, people who read salacious 
literature are less likely to become 
sexual offenders than those who do 
not, for the i-eason that such reading 
often neutralizes what aberrant sex- 
ual interests they may ha ye,’’ 

The theory that real pornography 
can act as a safely valve for a 
potentially dangerous person is still 
controversial, however. There are 
many experts who disagree with 
Dr. Karpman, most notably Dr. 
Fredric Wert ham, the New York 
psychiatrist. Yet, few will deny that 
a healthy exposure to sex will not 
harm a normal mind, As the Supreme 
Court itself seems to fee], the test 
of materia] produced for the normal 
person is how the nonnal person 
will react. 

This is not to say that there aren’t 
ho Id- outs against the Court's de- 
cisions. In many a town, today, self- 
appointed guardians revive the old 
war cry of that most famous of 
censors, Anthony Comstock: “Morals, 
riot art or literature,'” Many a book 
or motion pit lure lb at is obviously 
not pornographic within the Court's 
definition is still banned by local 
authorities. 

In one Northern state, for example, 
a County Attorney mailed leiters to 
news dealers threatening them with 
prosecution if they carried magazines 
that he doesn't like. The fact that 
even though the dealers could win 
Iheir cases, the cost in time and 
money to defend themselves dis- 
courages them from defying the 
County Attorney. 

Even more insidious is an “un- 
official'’ kind of censorship which 
police carry out in many cities. Here 
the police merely suggest lo a movie 
house that it nol run certain movies 
or to a book store that it nut sell 
certain volumes- Nothing is put in 
writing. Yet if the owners do not go 
along wdth the suggestions, they 
know that life will become uncom- 
fortable for them in any number 
of ways. 

Still, because the Supreme Court 
has spoken, progress is being made. 

Poll oo censorship in a number of 
cities is now being fought in the 
courts. Father more, local laws are 
being challenged when they appear 
to conflict with the Court rulings. 
A 105 - year-old Tennessee anti- 
obscenity law, for example, is now 
finally being appealed. 

No matter how far the Court goes 


72 









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from here, Americans have come a 
Ions way from the time w he n 
fclonmcrs were considered indecent 
and piano legs were referred to as 
limbs. 

Exeept for a few brief interludes 
such as the Victorian era, men have 
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THOSE LIVELY SPORTS 

(Contintied from p age 65) 


It's hard to accuse Barney Oldfield 
of breaking training. More truthfully 
bis auto racing often times seemed 
to break up hts bell -raising. Just 
before a race in Kansas City be van- 
ished. Three days later, when it was 
thought wise to search for him, tire 
speed king was found flat on bis back 
in a Main Street saloon. They look 
him home on a stretcher. Oldfield 
was a game fellow, though, and the 
next day he was in the raec. 

As his racing records and honors 
mounted - he didn't always go 
through the fence — Barney Oldfield's 
fortunes grew. He went in for ivory 
headed canes, diamond rings for- his 
little finger and imported cigars that 
he ordered by the £000 lot. His fame 
was international, He was invited to 
Cuba to be one of the honored judges 
tit an auto racing meet there. Old- 
field set up headquarters at Havana's 
famous Sloppy Joe’s bar. He got into 
a discussion of the relative merits of 
Woodrow Wilson and the current 
power i n Cuba . Oldfiel d sh owed 
scorn for the Cuban officials. The 
next morning he was deported. 

The twenties and Prohibition came 


but Barney Oldfield didn't slow 
down. The Firestone Company, to 
lake advantage of his huge reputa- 
tion in the auto field, hired Oldfield 
on as a top executive. This was most- 
ly a token job and it was his habit 
to walk into his office in the morn- 
ing, lock the door and slip out the 
back way for a day long speakeasy 
break. His habit of getting picked 
llp by the police on their Saturday 
night raids was so pronounced that 
Harvey Firestone had a man wait 
at the police station every Saturday 
to bail Oldfield out- Early in this 
century Barney Oldfield was the first 
man to drive a car at the unbeliev- 
able speed of a mile a minute. Sixty 
mile* an hour doc n't seem very fast 
flow. But they'll still have to go 
some to Jive as fast as Oldfield did. 

By now it should be evident that 
a great many of the most interesting 
records and scores racked up by the 
old-time athletes never got in the 
record books. The next time some- 
body tells you there were giants in 
those old days of sports ask for 
details. You may hear some pretty 
good stuff. • 


ACE (MAY] — STATEMENT OF OWNERSHIP 


Publi*h*r: Pile- two copies ef this farm with you- 
posrm BEtar. 

STATEMENT Qt OWNERSHIP, MANAGEMENT AND 
CIRCULATION |Arf l-I Oilobrr 33, 1967; Section. 
4369, Till* 39.- United Sioto Code|. 

L. Dale of filing, October 1, 1963. 

2, Title of pub I cctior, ACE. 

3, Frequency of ip|u* r El -MONTHLY. 

4, location at known frffiie of publication (Street, 
city, couniy, stole, I 'P pod*|, SOP Fifth Avenue, New 
York, New York 10017. 

j. Location oF th* headquarters or general busines. 
□Fh'L-Hi af lie publishers (Not prlntc-rs), 509 Fifih 
Avenue, New York, New York I 0517, 

0. Names and odrfrstndi af put I Is her, editor, oed 
mpnaqinj] editor. Publisher (Name oad uudioss), A ler 
Stearn, Bn H73, Sclaukel, New Turk. Editor [Name 
end add'esO, L-uwrenfe tieish, 42& Wesr 32nd Street, 
New York, New York. Manc-ging #dittr (Name und 
address |, None, 

7. OwrMY (II owned by a eec(>oratian, Iti name 
and aeSrs-sr -must lm itcled and else im-nedlulu ! v 
thereunder I'-ic npmes end <iddr*ii*s af xtnckholders 
owning or h-jltfinj I percenl or mnre ef toipl amount 
dF (lack. If nnl owned bV u carporatl an, Ibe names 
and oduiH-EEHs of Ihe Udlvlduail ownea musi l:« alven. 
If nw-ned by n pprfnenhlp or o J hc _ unfncorporuled 
fi^m, ilj oame and oddress-, Ox well as lhal of each 
individual must be giver.) Nines nrd add tos-Thi; 
Four Srar Publleafioni, Inc., 509 FIFfh Avenue, New 
Yark, New York ICC 17; A Hun j'uo-n. Ho. 373, tolair- 
ket New York; Deui field Publishing Co., Mounf Mt-r- 
rUs, Illinois; Lillian Ed Hi r/a J. Wwid-n bo urn, 39 
Broudwoy, New York i. New York. 

5, Knaw.n bondholders, morlgaflaei-. ond alter se, 
curlfy holder* aw-nFng ar holding 1 penenf or morn of 
lofcl amount of bonds, nmrluciaov ar other securi[it» 
(IF f here sint nanu, so s'afel: None. 

9 Paragraphi 7 and include, in cases where Ihu 
ifock^iotoer or (icorSfy huldur oponerp upon Fhe book* 


uf Toe rompnrv a. Iruslee or fn m f other fldurlarv 
rAlasicn, fhe name of Ihe penun or corporairpt for 
whom so(h Iruilec is acting. Slto Ihe .fafemes-ifs in 
thA Iwo paragraphs *hyw IhA alfianf's loll knowlesl^A 
and buliuF o'* 1o liic drrumslonres end conrflllon* 
ender which srorkheldArs end serurlly holders wha de 
m eripacr upon the liooks gl The- company pl Iruslees. 
hold slock and *ecurities In □ copacltf u-lhur lhan that 
af :j bona fide owner. Naim-, and nddresses r - indi- 
vidjnls who era stockholders of u corptrolian which 
i-iolf is a ilodkholduj ar holder ol bonds, morfgogos 
or oiher securitle. ef Fhe publishing odrptrelian have 
been included in paragraphs 7 and E- when the inier- 
osli af suet Ind-ividuul* ore enuivoltf la I percent or 
more el Ihe fatal amount of the slock or lU-roritto* of 
Ihe publishing corpgrdtrah, 

10. This il-u-i mud be campleled For oil putiliiuhao. 
a Keep] those -which da tat carry ndverllsing other Ihon 
H< h puDliihC-r 'i Dwp rnd wlh^H ar» tuiiiciJ in GiGCirGns 

1 12.331 , 133,232, and I 32.233, nosM monyol (3 a<- 
irani A355a, 4355b, ond af Title 39, Uniled 

Stoles [o:!-h|. Average Nn. copies each ixtue du-ing 
preceding 12 munch p> A. Tatel No. copies printed 
(Net FVoii ftun| 250, H33. 6. Poid Circylol.tti 1. Ta 
term- s-ubxcciber* bv mail, carcier delivery ar by other 
miens Note 7, Salas though agents, newi iIhu an, 
ar athar-wisc. 250,733. C. Frea didribotlnn (Inrtodinff 
com pies) by mail, carrier dettoncy, or Sir alhar irieani. 
5U. D. Totol No, al cepiep d iilrl b urnd |5um of fine* 
El. -E2 and CJ. 250,783. Singto Issue necrasl ta U'ing 
dote: A. Ttlal Na. capias printed |Net Pres* Euri| 
245,-200. 8. Poid circufefioa- '■ To farm subscribers 
hy moil, corriei delivery or by other *Miii, None. 
7. icle. through ugenlt, news dealers, or orherw-ise. 
344.H11. t. Free disIrlhuJion [ircludinfj samplai) by 
mail, carrier delivu.-y, ar hy other meens. 139. D. 
Tolol No, af copies distributed. |Su-m af I i rid f M, B2 
and C) 244,950. 

I certify that Ihe Ttnlements made hy me above pi- 
correct and camptile. (Signature el editor 1 , publisher, 
buTleepi manage-, or twnarl Allen Steorn. 



SIOO DIVORCE 

CCcuitMltted from page 14) 

two to three hundred dollar bracket. 
The one -year residency requirement 
is treated quite elastically. 

Arkansas; This is a “divorce mill” 
state. Big city fees run. around $250. 
Small town lawyers will usually 
agree to a $100 charge. There's a 00“ 
day residence requirement, but it's 
strictly a matter of legalistic lip- 
service. Most common grounds ac- 
cepted is ''indignities," a catch-all 
statutory phrase which can include 
anything from a pie in the face to 
criticizing the length of a wife's 
skirt, 

Connecticut’ A three -year resi- 
dency is enforced, but it’s one of the 
few states where the husband doesn't 
have to pay the wife's court costs. 
Legal fees usually add up to around 
$450-fairly cheap by the standards 
of most eastern states. ■“General 
Cruelty' 1 is acceptable grounds and 
interpretation is liberal. 

Illinois: This is the only state 
which spells out venereal disease as 
grounds for divorce. 

Marne: A six-months residency is 
required and impotency and general 
cruelly are both acceptable grounds. 
Fees are generally reasonable, but 
the leniency of the courts varies 
widely throughout the state with the 
ease of divorce usually reflecting the 
moral attitudes of the community. 

Montana: For those living in this 
part of the country, this state offers 
many of the advantages of the “mar- 
riage mill” states plus the advan- 
tage of unci uttered court calendars. 
Fees are low, the one -year residency 
requirement loosely enforced, and 
alimony grants meager compared to 
the rest of the country. Also, Mon- 
tana is the only state which specifi- 
cally labels “defamation of wife” as 
grounds for divorce. In other words, 
cussing your wile out in public 
makes you eligible to divorce her 
there. 

Fenttsylt'cmta.’ Sterility of either 
party is grounds for divorce. Ali- 
mony is granted only to a wife 
proven insane, or in cases where 
separations have been granted, hut 
final divorce denied. Fees outside of 
the big cities are reasonable- 

r/tah: Only a three -month resi- 
dency is required and mental cruelty 
is acceptable grounds. Fees arc 
standardized, and low. 

Washington ; This state has no 
residency requirement. “Indignities" 
—loosely defined and fairly all-en- 
compassing - is acceptable grounds. 
Fees are lew— it's possible to get a 
lawyer's services from $100 to $150 
in some communities— and Washing- 
ton is fast becoming the Northwest 
haven for the divorce -bound. 

So far, we’ve studied the where 
and how of keeping divorce costs 



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75 




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76 


down. Eat haw'd you like to get a 
divorce and come out ahead of the 
game? I Fa possible in the very states 
where the male can be clobbered 
hardest by the divorce laws; Cali- 
fornia and Idaho. 

These are the (wo states in the 
Union which have “community prop- 
erty" laws by which the disintegrat- 
ing couple must split their assets 
fifty-fifty. Usually, this works out to 
the advantage of the female. But if 
you happen to be trying to shed a 
wife who has money and properly of 
her own, it pays to sue her for di- 
vorce in either California or Idaho, 
Courts in both states have declared 
that hubby’s as entitled toi gain by 
the split as the wife who usually 
profits. 

The- hardest state to obtain s di- 
vorce in is New York. Adultery is 
the only grounds the courts will ac- 
cept. And legal fees, the cost of 
detectives, photographers, an “other 
woman” with whom the “guilty” 
party allows himself to be caught- 
all these add up astronomically, Yet 
it is possible to get a divorce in New 
York for $100. 

New' Yorkers will guffaw at this, 
but it's not only possible, it's been 
done. Recently a girl who made her- 
self available to private eyes as the 
“other woman” in divorcee cases 
married a lawyer. About a year after 
the marriage a detective called her 
•and offered her the standard $25 fee 
for the standard situation. When she 
tried to turn him down on the 
grounds that her husband would ob- 
ject, he forced her into it by threat- 
ening to tell her husband, about her 
background himself if she didn't do 


the job precisely as he insisted. 

So the girl joined the “client” in 
the hotel room and after awhile the 
detective and photographer broke in 
and snapped them it', the usual com- 
promising position. And rjgbi lie- 
hind them w'as the lady's lawyer 
husband who promptly claimed the 
picture for evidence in the divorce 
suit he was about to bring against 
his wife! 

It cost him $55 to the detective and 
$25 apiece for the photographer and 
the male model who'd been hired to 
impersonate the husband in search 
of divorce. Total cost $100! And the 
lawyer -husband didn't even pay his 
wife's fee for the job! 

Of course, being a lawyer, he also 
didn't have any legal fees to pay. 
The average Joe who does would be 
better off in practically any part of 
the country but New York. However, 
no matter where he is, there's one 
fact he sb ou 1 d bear in m i nd about 
divorce: 

It isn't the initial cost, it's the up- 
keep which pauperizes the divorced 
male! 

That means alimony. With very 
few exceptions, courts in all states 
will award the wife alimony if she 
requests it. In many of them they 
won't even consider the suit for di- 
vorce until after the couple have 
reached an alimony setflemcnl. In 
Louisiana, and Hawaii, the wife con- 
tinues to collect alimony even if she 
remarries. 

So remember, while it’s perfectly 
possible to shed your wife for $155, 
take especial care lest the judge 
should cross you up and make it 
$150 a week! 9 



LL ] hope this hasn't given you the wrong impression of me. I really prefer a bed." 





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77 







A CRYING NEED TO LAUGH 

fContimted /rum pofire GO) 



You ("ill i fhfinge: yr.iur rti |jhl s without 
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experience at ibis sort of thing.” 

I giggled- “Yes, IVe been doing it 
for eighteen years. Now, about the 
satire bit- " 

About an hour later, Ida looked up 
at me, her eyes suffused with what 
appeared to be joy. “Horn long, did 
you say?” 

'^Ob, this. It's my first time. IVe 
been pretty busy.” 

As T dressed hurriedly, happy at 
the success of the interview, Ida 
said, “Man, forget the ten bucks— 
that was for free! And don't leave 
town, okay?” 

T told her I would be happy to 
interview her again, hut right now 
1 had to get back to the office and 
write my story. With that goddam 
crow quill, it would take me about 
three weeks— just enough to make 
the deadline Tor tomorrow's paper. 

f burst into the office and ran up 
to Mr. Hugo Snarffs desk. I told him 
that T had a real blockbuster of a 
story, an almost certain Pulitzer 
prize winner. If I could just have 
some ink— 

Mr. Snarff threw the inkwell at 
me, “You're fired!” His words were 
like bullets fired at my defenseless 
■ breast- “You wrecked one of the 
best plots ever devised to end this 


hateful progress that's screwing up 
Ibc world 1 I sen! one of our best 
operators over to blow up that idi- 
otic: UN. It would have set the world 
back fifty years- where it belongs! 
But no— i/ou. had to be there; pou had 
lo short-stop my operative; yon bad 
to ruin my bomb, a whole night’s 
work, f'Chrissakel You — 1 n 

“You, Sir,” said a voice from be- 
hind me, “have a seventy- five dollar 
reward coming. We've been after 
this madman for a long time. He’ll 
get sent up for at least five yearn 
for trying to blow up the UK!” The 
tall policeman shook my hand and 
pressed a check for seventy-five dol- 
lars into my pocket. 

Seventy-flvc dollars! This was a 
who to month's pay! Enough to get 
married on. And after that? What 
did it matter? I had mot the girl of 
my dreams -the world was ours! 
Together, wc surely had the talent 
to make laO dollars a month. 

Before leaving, 3 threw the ink- 
well at Mr. SnarFf. Then I dashed 
out into the glad New York throng. 
The people! The grass roots! Now l 
kficto the truth, and 1 was free! 

I ran across Eighth Avenue and up 
42nd Street. Sooner or later. 1 would 
find her- ... # 


MM. 








A SLOPPY AFFAIR 

{CorciiTvutrd from page 48) 

of a kid looking over his shoulder 
whilft he’s; playing pat-a-cakc with 
Mama. As to to cuckolding in the 
stables, well, it all depends on one's 
sensitivity In 11m aromas of the raw 
materials from which fertilizer is 
made. And any of yon hubbies who 
can think up an excuse for taking off 
for a weekend on your own that 
wifey will swallow are welcome to 
It— providing you've still got the 
jizzum to keep pace with a girl 
younger than your offspring; it 
should be noted that in the book the 
hero dropped! dead of a heart attack. 

The Caveman Technique isn't fa- 
vored by O'Hara heroes who often 
come across as so upper-class as to 
seem effete. However, Grace Metali- 
ous' men 310 made of sterner stuff, 
in her latest novel f No Adam in 
Eden, she has a husband battering 
down a bedroom door to get at his 
spouse. There's nothing new about 
this. Kbett J3 utter did it in Gone 
With The Wind. And in the movie 
version of The Enares of Harrow, 
sexy Rexy Harrison kicked ibe bed- 
room door in. Well, it’s a moot point 
as to just how often a modern hus- 
band may have to resort to such 
measures to get at his mate, (And 
when he does, the sight of hair 
curlers, cold -creamed face and baggy 
pajamas may prove a more formida- 
ble obstacle than the stoutest door.) 
However, here are some tips for the 
brash young benedict so inclined: 
Don't hit that door with your shoul- 
der, you can break a collarbone that 
way; don't try to kick it in, lest your 
ardor wane in the pain of crushed 
toes; if you must break it down, use 
a fire-axc— or, better still, pick the 
lock! 

These are but a few of the facets 
of sox the fictioneers like to portray. 
Doubtless you can think of many 
more yourself which don't quite 
measure up to reality. The important 
thing, though, is to realize that when 
the two don't jibe, it isn't your ex- 
perience that’s falling short. It's the 
author who can't resist making sex 
mure ideal than it naturally is. 

So don't feel badly if your girl 
friend has B.O., or you find it un- 
comfortable making love on a sand- 
dune, or her hand caressing your 
head comes away covered with 
"greasy kid stuff, 11 or your feet get 
tangled in the bed- sheets, or you 
get a cramp in your big toe at the 
crucial moment, or passion flies in 
the need to take time out for neces- 
sary precautions. No, don't feel bad- 
ly, Remember: In real life, love 
really is a sloppy affair! # 



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and meditated on the cruel ways of 
fate. 

About seven-thirty that night, 
however, there was a soft rap at his 
door and when he opened it Nella 
w&S there, 

"Go.” Fred greeted her. 

"You do nut 15 he me any more?” 
"Of course I like you. But , , ." 

“Ah, I see.” The girl's eyes blazed. 
"It i$ Abdul. You are afraid of him’ 
You are a coward! 11 

"Well, not exactly. But . . . There 
is Lhc moral issue. You are a married 
woman. 11 

“Of course. That must be it," the 
girl said, softly. She had stepped 
through the door and closed It by 
now. “My husband is an old man. 
And I am but one of sixteen wives.” 
She began to sob, softly. 

“Don't cry,” he began. 

“I thought you were a man I 
could trust.” 

"You can- You can." 

She raised her head and smiled 
tentatively. She melted into his 
arms. 

At that point Fred was lost. Noth- 
ing mattered except that vibrant 
female which he had to have. Their 
clothes seemed to drop from them, 
magically, and her naked body was 
even more remarkable than it was 
in her brief daneing costume. 

Nothing Fred had known had over 
equalled! this. Nella shook, shimmied, 
shivered and aroused sensations that 
Fred had only dreamed about, be- 
fore. “Now," she said at last. “Bight 
now!” 

Later, they were sitting side by 
side on the bed. “If my husband ever 
found out about this he would have 
us both tortured,” the girl said. 
“Tortured?” 

“Yes. He is a terrible man. If 1 
told you the things he has done you 
would not believe them. He forced 
me to come to America in order to 
earn money for him. And lie sent 
Abdul to guard me.” She halted, 
casting her eyes downward before 
she went on. "And T had the mis- 
fortune to fall in love with you. I 
am in your hands, now.” 

“Don't worry," Fred said. "I'll take 
care of you. "There must be some 
way to got you out of this mess.” 

"There is one thing we might do," 
the girl said, slowly. "That is if you 
are serious." 
f "What's that?" 

“We could bribe Abdul. He hates 
my husband, really. If we offered 
him enough money to make a new 
start, himself, I h m sure I could con- 
vince him to look the other way 
while we ran off.” She looked at 
Fred, her eyes alive with hope. 
“How much money do you think 
you can get.” 


Fred thought quickly. He was not 
a rich man, but he did have a good 
job plus a car and some other pos- 
sessions that be could sell. With that, 
and all the money he could boa- low, 
he figured he could collect some six 
or seven thousand dollars. 

“I’m sure that would he enough." 
Nella said. 

"Of course, we would be starting 
from scratch.” 

"We’d have each other,” she an- 
swered, trustingly- “And lhai would 
be enough." 

They agreed to meet the follow- 
ing day when "Fred would give her 
the money for Abdul- He waited in 
the lobby" while the girl went up- 
stairs to pay off her keeper and pack 
her- things. 

A half- hour went by. An hour. 
Fred began to flgit in his chair. 
Something must have gone wrong. 
Perhaps Abdul took the money from 
her and hurt her. Anything could 
have happened. 

He had promised he would remain 
where he was. She. knew how to 
handle Abdul, she said, and for his 
part he had no desire to test the big 
man’s powers wilh the scimitar. Bui 
now he had no choice.. He had to do 
something. 

He rang Nella's doorbell first. 
When there was no answer he tried 
Abdul's door across the hall. The 
big man let him in. “I was wonder- 
ing when you would show r nth" he 
said. 

“Where is she?" Fred demanded. 
"She left. With Grippe.” 

"I don't give a damn about her 
luggage! Where is she?” 

“Pm telling you. With Grippe. The 
little orchestra arranger. She had 
me fooled completely. Just slipped 
out the back way with him.”’ 

“Bui . . . but - . . My money. She 
was going to bribe you. £0 that her 
husband' wouldn’t have her tor- 
tured." 

Abdul laughed grimly. “You really 
are a mark,” he said. "That girl has 
never been east of Brooklyn in her 
iife!" 

“I don't understand” Fred said, 
numbly. 

"It was a con game, brother. She 
and I were going to grab your dough 
and scram. Only she double-crossed 
me, too. With Grippe, of all people!" 
“Rut aren't you . . . ?” 

"Some kind of crazy harem guard? 
Hell, no. I come from Jersey City." 

“But what about that?” Fred 
pointed at the scimitar. 

"Just a prop, brother. A part of 
the act. It scares me half to death, 
hut it seems to impress the suckers.” 

Fred buried his face in his hands. 
The world, he thought, was coming 



to an end right at that very moment. 

“Like a drink?' 1 the big man asked 
him. 

Fred nodded. 

"Don't feel u>o bad, brother," the 
big man said. ''You're not alone. She 

THE EFFERVESCING 

(Continued from page 3SJ 
a big pitcher of cold, foaming beer. 

When she came back from repairing 
the damage in the Ladies' Room, she 
was quick to agree that il might be a 
good idea to leave and go into town 
for a snack, I didn’t really want a 
snack, of course, I wanted to gel her 
off alone on the walk to town and try 
to repair the damage to our relation" 
ship to a point where I'd be able to 
swing into the yearned -for seduction. 

But as wo began our silent stroll, 
T found that I was in no condition to 
re -establish any kind of relationship. 
That last dance had churned up at] 
the beer I'd swilled and now my 
system, unaccustomed to alcohol 
even in the mildest quantities, was 
rebelling. Tt was a quiet rebellion, 
and I don't know whether Lerraine 
was aware of it or not. What it was 
was & combination of heartburn and 
nausea which seemed to make it im- 
perative that T not open my mouth 
to make any conversation. 

By the time we reached town,, it 
was a little belter, but not much. 
Still, I found I dared talk without 
feaT of upchucking. "'Want to go in 
for pizza?” I asked her, although the 
very thought almost gagged me. 

“All the gang 'll be there,” she 
said callously. “Lei's go some place 
else. I don’t want to see them after 
that bit back at the ginmill.” 

We settled on a sort of tea room 
frequented by the older vacationers 
on the Cape. It was a quiet place, 
brightly lit and frilly, the kind of 
place that serves Hi cracker-size 
sandwiches of limp watercress and 
too -sweet lemonade in the kind of 
skinny glass designed to make it 
dribble down your chin. It was the 
last place to foment romance, but I 
was feeling enough better now to 
think I might save the situation and 
somehow,' manage to score anyway, 

Larrainc ordered coffee and some 
tarts so small they looked like can- 
dies. I said I didn't want anything, 
that Fd just sit and keep her com- 
pany. -She was hungry though, and 
she popped one after another of 
those cakes into her mouth after the 
wajtr-ess brought them, 

"Aren't you going to have any- 
thing at all?" she asked, feeling 
maybe a little self-conscious because 
I was watching her pack it away. 

"I don't feel like anything." 

H 'Tummy on the fritz?" 

“A little.'' 

"Too much beer, huh?” 

“I guess so.” 

“That's how it is when you're not 


grabbed ail my life’s savings, loo." 

"Your life's savings? Who ait you, 
anyway?” 

“J’rn the biggest sucker uf them 
all. 1 happen to be the little lady’s 
husband!” # 

CASANOVA 

used to it." She shook her head 
knowingly. 

“Wbn said I wasn't used to it?” I 
protested. 

"Well then, you sure can't hold 
it.” 

H T can tool” I was getting hot 
under the collar now, and feeling a 
little foolish to boot. 

“Okay, set you can,” She shrugged 
it off. Then, a little more kindly, 
she made a suggestion. “Why don't 
you have an Aika Seltzer? It'll settle 
your turn- turn,” 

My stomach was actually pretty 
much settled by then, but there was 
a j-ing of sophistication to the idea 
tErat I couldn’t resist. I'd never in my 
life had an Alka Seltzer, but some- 
how il seemed to go with all the 
blase things like morning -after 
hangovers and p^ck- me -ups-all the 
things a man of the world would 
take for granted. Also, there was 
the feeling that by taking one, I'd 
be showing Larraine that I was her 
equal, maybe even laying a founda- 
tion of rapport for the long walk 
back along the deserted beach. So I 
called the waitress over and ordered 
one. 

I looked at the tablets for a mo- 
ment and swallowed hard. Larraine 
looked at me and began fidgeting. 
“Well," she said finally, “aren’t you 
going to take it?” 

"Sure. Sure,” I said, conscious that 
she was staring at me and wonder- 
ing at my hesitation. I met her stare 
for a moment and then lowered my 
eyes. T couldn't stand knowing that 
I must have looked stupid and help- 
less. 

“Well?” she said again. 

That did it, 1 took a deep breath 
and popped one of the large tablets 
into my mouth. It covered my tongue 
like cotton batting. Quickly I gulped 
from the glass of seltzer and some- 
how' managed to wasEt it down with- 
out choking on it. I knew that if I 
hestitated, I was lost. I throw the 
second pill far back in my throat 
and took another gulp of soda water, 
draining the glass dry as I felt the 
pellet sticking halfway down my 
craw. I swal lowed hard three or 
four times and at last it slid down. 
Then I looked up at Larraine. 

She was staring at me wlb pop- 
eyed, open -jawed amazement. She 
shook her he&d slowly and her voice 
was bewildered when she spoke. 
“That's the first time I ever saw any- 
body' take an Alka Seltzer that way,” 
she said, (ContJ 



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How the 
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81 


I had no idea what she wag talk- 
ing about, but I brazened it out. “I 
always take them. Ukc ■that,'' I told 
her. “It's the best way if you’ve been 
drinking/' 

“Oh,” She still had that uncom- 
prehending look on her face. 

"Let f s go-,” I said. 

She nodded and led the way to the 
cashier’s booth where I paid the 
cheek. We walked the half-block to 
the beach and then started up the 
lonely strand towards her cottage. 
We hadn’t gone three steps when I 
decided it was time to stop delaying, 
time to come on strong, caveman 
style, if I was going to get anywhere 
at all. T grabbed her and kissed her. 

T took her by surprise, and it 
started out awkwardly. But she 
seemed to get the idea fast and be- 
gan kissing back immediately. I was 
trying to lose myself in the excite- 
ment of the kiss, trying to forget the 
whole messed-up evening and let 
things start to happen. 

Well, they started happening all 
right, but not the things I’d ex- 
pected, They started happening in 
my stomach. I’d been aware of a 
sort of fizzing sensation down there 
just after I'd taken the Alka Seltzer, 
but now, during our first kiss, may- 
be because of the way I was leaning 
to hold Larraine close to me, one of 
those tablets began to effervesce in 
earnest. 

Larraine broke the kiss. f< Wbat’s 
that?” she said. 

“What?” 

"That sort of rumbling noise. 
Don't you hear it?” 

"It must be the surf. lf 

"Yes . . , Only it sounds so close 
. . , Just listen.” 

HI You listen." T wrapped my arms 
around her in what 1 conceived a 
manly fashion and -kissed her again. 

Again she broke away. "It’s louder 
now. Don't you hear it? Oh, you 
must.” 

“Foget it,” I said, curbing to my- 
self at the turmoil in my stomach, 
which was growing worse, "Kiss 
me. 11 

She obliged, but it was clumsy. 
You see, I was trying to embrace 

U.S.A.’S PLAYBOYS 

f Continued from page 
His spouse. Gaby Palazzolo (with 
whom he’s had! an on -again, off-again 
relationship), hastily retreated from 
the fracas, tears in her eyes. Later 
she told reporter, "My husband 
makes me furious — but he is so 
passionate.” 

On the other hand, after one of 
Texas' richest bachelors entertained 
a French starlet, she said, "He’s only 
fun when he spends his money." 

And that ’■just about sums up the 
secret of today’s playboys who make 
the fastest time with the girls — 
passion- £ 


her sideways, so that my now-churn- 
ing belly wouldn’t distract her at- 
tention- However, the rumblings 
were growing louder. 

Larraine pulled away a third time. 
'That noise. It’s you!” she said 
accusingly. 

“Yes.” I tried to laugh it off, T 
guess my stomach’s talking.” 

“Talking? It’s screaming, that's 
what it’s doing.” 

"It’s really not SO bad.” 

"That Alka Seltzer,” She snapped 
her fingers. ”1 should have known 
when you swallowed them that crazy 
way that something had to happen." 

“Can’t you j,ust forget it?” I said. 

I grabbed her again to get her mind 
off it. This time, a little desperately 
I guess, I let my hand clutch one of 
her breasts, hoping to arouse her. 

She let that kiss follow through 
to the finish, and when it was over, 
she closed her hand over mine. 

"I want you," 1 whispered hoarse- 
ly. It was a bit of dialogue I’d picked 
up from an old Paul Henreid movie 
on a TV late show. 

Larraine didn’t know that, though. 
She guided my fingers inside her 
blouse until they were caught tight- 
ly between her bra and the fullness 
of her breast. "Do you want me 
really?” .she murmured. 

"Yes, I do,” I said in as convinc- 
ing a tone as I could muster. Un- 
fortunately, the effect was marred 
by a particularly loud crackling from 
tny stomach. 

Rut even if that destroyed the 
mood. It didn't seem to faze Lar- 
raine, She really was on the nympho 
side like the fellows had said, and 
now she proved it. “Well, why not, 1 ' 
she said- “I’ve never made love with 
a ooy who was effervescing before.” 
And. so help me, she sank to the 
sand and beckoned to me, ber eyes 
glittering eagerly in the moonlighl- 

Now. right about here, I have to 
stop and explain something. Up to 
this point, even though my stomach 
had been making those noises, and 
even though I was fizzing away in- 
side, I hadn't felt any real physical 
discomfort from my ;fau;c pas with 
the Alka Seltzer, There’s been a 
mild, tickling sensation, but so many 
sensations were chasing each other 
around my body at the prospect of 
at last scoring with Larraine, that 
I’d barely noticed it. 

However, awhile after T stretched 
out alongside Larraine, that all be- 
gan to change. At first, it wasn’t so 
bad, A mild cramp when I shifted 
to bury my face in her bosom, a tiny 
stab of pain while she was guiding 
my hand up the length of her thigh, 
a sharp quiver when 1 reached 
around to help her unbutton the 
snaps at the back of her dregs. 

Slowly though, it got progressive- 
ly worse. The noises were much 
worse too, but by this time Larraine 
was so caught up in what we were 


doing that I don’t think she even 
noticed. She was so caught up, in 
fact, that she’d thrown everything 
but her slip aside and now she 
pulled that up over her hips and 
arched her body hungrily. Her eyes 
were half-slits as she moaned into 
my ear- “Now. How. Oh, hurry." 
And her bands were tugging at me, 
urging my body to swing into posi- 
tion. 

1 started to comply, and that'.s 
when it happened. Maybe the Alka 
Seltzer just hit all that beer at that 
moment. Or maybe our thrashing 
around was making it work faster, 

I don't know. All I do know is that 
just as I was about to make my 
dream of seduction come true, just 
as I poised to possess her body, an 
agonized convulsion went through 
me the likes of which I've never felt 
before, or since. 

I rolled away from her and sat 
doubled-up, hugging my stomach, 
and praying through the tears I 
couldn’t hold back that I’d have 
enough control to keep from making 
a complete fool out of myself. 

"What’s the matter?” Her voice 
was thick with the resentment of 
frustration. 

I couldn't answer. 

“Are you sick?” 

r clutched at my belly. 

“I knew tho&e tablets 'd get to 
you." 

I leaped to my foot and raced for 
the shadow's behind the nearest sand 
dune. 

"When you gotta go, you gotta 
go,” she sang out sarcastically. Her 
laughter followed me, hanging in the 
air for a long lime. 

For a long time afterwards I used 
to wake up at night hearing that 
laughter. It was an echo hanging 
over my adolescence, my young 
manhood. Tt was the cornerstone of 
my shyness, my confusion when 
alone with a girl, my reluctance to- 
wards sexual aggression. Indeed, the 
experience congealed into the foun- 
dation of my virginity. 

Until the other night, that is. I 
was out with this girl for the first 
time and w r e stopped off in this drug- 
store for coffee before I took her 
home. We were sitting at the counter 
when this guy plopped himself down 
next to my girl and ordered! an Alka 
Seltzer. When the waitress brought 
it to him, my girl began giggling, 

“What's so funny?” 1 asked her. 

“When I was a kid,” she said, "I 
thought you had to swallow those 
tablets like you swallow an aspirin. 
The first time I took one, that’s ex- 
actly what I did.” She giggled again. 
"Boy, did 1 ever fizz:" 

I looked at her with new eyes, 
with a rapport that was building to 
manful strength within me. An hour 
later wc were in bed together. As 
simple as that. And so now, at last, 
I’m not a virgin any more. # 



something 
to look 
forward 
to... 


And so to sleep until the next big issue of ACE 

comes out and the fun starts all over again. Look 
for it on your newsstand* The date is April 28 th. 



You'll find the rib- tickling "Nursery 
Rhymes for Adults/' along with more 
than a score of exciting features 
Inside, make for a "swinging" issue* 


Enjoy another classic from the Yootha Archive 
YOOthO Discover more amazing collections in our eBay shop 

QrchiVS http://stores.ebay.co.uk/Yootha-Archive-of-Vintage-and-Retro 

or at www.yootha.com