Reading Playboy for the articles: June 1964

Ingmar Bergman, Mustangs for everyone and dirty beatniks

My wife, Lisa, has acquired a large collection of vintage Playboy magazines. I'm flipping through those issues that catch my attention and offering my thoughts on the non-photographic content that filled its pages. You know, the articles.

Highlights: Last time out, I learned that an issue without one of the famed Playboy interviews is an issue with a large intellectual hole in it. This time out, I learn that all interviews aren't created equal. That's a shame, because for June 1964 the featured interview should be a Jim-dandy one: Legendary Swedish filmmaker Ingmar Bergman. Alas, this one just didn't do it for me. The questions and answers came off as rote and offered little insight into the famed director--other than the fact that he doesn't like interviews and had a fairly short temper earlier in his career:

Playboy: You've been criticized not only for barring and even ejecting intruders from your sets, but for outbursts of rage in which, reportedly, you've ripped phones off the walls and thrown chairs through glass control booths. Is there any truth to these accounts?

Bergman: Yes, there is--or rather, was. When I was younger, much younger, like so many young men I was unsure of myself. But I was very ambitious. And when you're unsure, when you're insecure and need to assert yourself, or think you do, you become aggressive in trying to get your own way. Well, that's what happened to me--in a provencial theater where I was a new director. I couldn't behave that way now and hope to keep the respect of my actors and my technicians. When I know the importance of every minute in a working day, when I realize the supreme necessity of establishing a mood of calm and security on the set, do you think I could, or would have any right to, indulge myself that way? A director on a movie set is a little like the captain of a ship: he must be respected in order to be obeyed. I haven't behaved that way at work since I was maybe twenty-five or twenty-six.

Playboy: Yet the stories of temper tantrums continue to circulate in print.

Bergman: Of course they do. Such stunts as ripping out telephones and hurling chairs around make the sort of copy that journalists love to give the editors and their readers. It's more colorful to read about a violent temper than about someone instilling confidence in his actors by talking quietly with themIt's to be expected that people will go on writing--and reading--this sort of nonsense about a man year after year. Do you begin to understand why I don't like to talk to the press?.

And by choosing that passage to excerpt, I suppose I have proven Bergman right nearly 60 years later.

Other thoughts: First off, let me say I absolutely hate the cover designs that use this furry, bourgeoisie rabbit mascot. The character himself looks more than a little creepy and cover designs using him are lazy and uninspired every single time.

With that out of the way, it's time for "Uncle Shelby's Scout Handbook" from Shel Silverstein. I've not mentioned much about Silverstein's illustrated cartoons from previous issues. Although I count myself as a casual fan well aware of the sprawling diversity of his creative output, many of his Playboy cartoons struck me as unfocused and generally weird for weirdness' sake. Not this time. Here, Silverstein serves up four pages of delightfully subversive panels tinged with macabe humor. Would I ever be a Shelby Scout? Never. But I'll happily read about their ill-fated exploits.

Next up is "Playboy on the Town in Copenhagen." When your magazine promotes itself as the periodical of choice for jet-setters, features on European destinations are pretty much required. There was a piece on Paris in a previous issue I looked at, but Paris seemed a bit too obvious and the accompanying article and photos were less than inspiring. Copenhagen, on the other hand, is both unexpected and looks like a happening place. Nothing against Denmark, but let me see a show of hands of everyone who has "Copenhagen!" on the tip of your tongue when it comes to the European city you most want to visit (or even remember)? This writeup goes a long way to change that. In this photo spread alone we're treated to the top-tier Seven Nations Restaurant, followed by the resort hotel Marienlyst, which boasts the only casino in Denmark (at least, that's the way things stood way back in 1964--I'll wager things have changed, one way or the other, in the ensuing decades since). The chef's kiss, however, is Montmartre, a hip jazz club. I want to be there. Guess what? It still exists! Yeah, I am absolutely visiting the next time I'm in Denmark!

One thing I like about these old issues is the insight they offer into cultural styles of the era, and that holds true here. In "Playboy's Gifts for Dads and Grads" we get a glimpse into what the hot, trendy must-have items are for 1964. Below we see the self-contained stereo unit Claritone for $1,600, which seems pretty pricey even by today's standards, even though there's no denying it's wow factor. Another must-have, pictured on a different page, is a 1964 Ford Mustang convertible with optional white-wall tires for $2,780. If you doubt what a huge cultural impact the Mustang had, skip down to the next image.

The Mustang was such a phenomenon that everyone and their dog tried to ride the coattails of its popularity. Here, a toothpaste company tries to juice sales with a giveaway of 70 pony cars! That's nuts? There's another ad elsewhere in the magazine where a sunglasses company offers a special edition tied to--you guessed it--the Ford Mustang. If I recall correctly, a special production model of the car was rushed to Europe so it could be used in the latest James Bond film, Goldfinger. That's pretty impressive when the Eurocentric Bond franchise goes out of its way to feature a hot rod from Detroit alongside the venerable Aston Martin. And speaking of Bond, teh concluding installment of Ian Fleming's new novel, You Only Live Twice, also appears in this issue. As big a phenomenon as James Bond was in the mid-1960s, I imagine this boosted Playboy's newsstand sales nicely.

This pajama ad strikes me as hilarious. I think they're about to engage in a judo sparring match. A sexy judo sparring match.

Being a home bartender myself, it amuses me to see that Angostura Bitters were as indespensible in the 1960s as they are today. This silly ad amuses me, but then again, I'm easily amused.

On the other hand, I find this ad much less amusing. For those who enjoy the flavor of vodka? Ugh. Vodka exists for people who wish to get blotto but don't want to taste themselves doing so. The bland, inoffensive flavor of 7-Up (or Sprite, or Squirt, or any of the other lemon-lime knockoff soft drinks) confirms this. Fun fact: You know how Coca-cola originally contained cocaine in its recipe? 7-Up did it one better by adding lithium to the beverage. Now you know where the "Up" came from!

Now, we get to the cartoons. By 1964 the British invasion was in full swing so California's surf culture was on the wane, which likely meant it had finally penetrated the national consciousness enough for gags like this to make sense to the average reader. Maybe it's just me, but this issue had more illustration work that made me chuckle or smile than any of the previous issues I've reviewed.

And this one, oh my goodness, is there a better example of a mainstream magazine being a half-step behind the times? See, the joke here is that beatniks are dirty, messy, unkempt and generally espresso-swilling, poetry-spouting dregs of counterculture. Trust me, this gag would've brought down the house circa 1958. But in 1964? Seriously? Were beatniks and bongos even still a thing? Psst, Playboy why don'tcha lean in closer so I can tell you all about hippies. Trust me, you're gonna love them... or, at least the whole "free love" aesthetic.

Finally, I leave you gentle readers with this ad. I'm sure you will agree that it is a striking ad. Educational as well--prior to seeing this, I was not aware that gorillas preferred Falstaff beer. Learn something new every day.