Playmate Of The Week
The Facts
Born: Charlaine Karalus
Birthdate: June 13, 1934
Birthplace: Wheaton, Illinois USA
Bust: 36
Waist: 24
Hips: 36
Height: 5′ 6
Weight: 115 lbs
Photographed By Arthur-James & Mike Shea.
Contents
July ‘55:
Pictorial:
Tempest Storm ‘Tempest in a C-Cup’
Tempest Storm
Tempest Storm (real name Annie Blanche Banks) had one of the greatest stage names for any burlesque performer, but that isn’t all she had. With flaming red hair and a figure that men would kill for, Tempest Storm soon went from chorus girl to strip-tease star. She also became a pin-up sensation with the help of legendary photographer and director Russ Meyer. She was one of the defining women in the golden age of the striptease, creating a lasting myth that every classic bachelor is thankful for.
December ‘55:
Pictorial:
Burlesque in Tokyo
Features:
“A Classic Affair” by Charles Beaumont.
“The Next Line” by Ray Bradbury.
“Uncovering a Nudist Wedding” by Earl Wilson.
“The First Sap of Manhood” satire by Shepherd Mead.
“A Lady’s Honor” by Ray Russell.
October ‘56:
Features:
“The Right Kind of Pride” by Herbert Gold.
“Hospitality” by Lesley Conger.
“Hemingway (A Title Bout in Ten Rounds)” (round 3) by Jed Kiley.
“A Pound of Flesh” by Anson Mount.
“For Export Only (Stateside Cinema is Spice, Too, But Not for Home Consumption)”.
Janet Pilgrim was the real first Playmate. Before her, most of the photos were bought from second hand sources, featuring professional models. In fact, Marilyn Monroe’s centerfold was of one of these stock photographs. After going through the Bettie Pages and Jayne Mansfields, Hef decided to change the direction of his little mag by featuring a heartland hometown girl. He set his sights on Janet Pilgrim, who worked in the Playboy subscription department, and eventually talked her into posing for the magazine. Can you spell sexual harrassment, kiddies.
One interesting fact is that in her first centerfold, the fuzzy figure in the background is Hugh, himself. Second interesting fact is that Janet would appear two more times, in December of 1955, some six months after her first centerfold, and almost a year later in October of 1956. She would also do a pictorial in July 1962. And she also appeared on her first two magazine covers. Now that’s what we call overkill.
But think about it. Janet Pilgrim was the Pamela Anderson of her time. Just without the ditzy attitude, slutty nature, and fake tits. She was real. A real woman living in the real world, with a real job. She actually was the “girl next door.” And she didn’t have to spread her legs, or show too much boobage. She was the kind of woman you might be able to take home to mother.
Of course no one really stood a chance of getting a woman like Janet. It was about the illusion, the art. The women were hot, and they looked attainable, but not in a trashy way. They were women you might bump into on the train, or on the street, in an elevator, or in a store. They were round like hourglasses, breasts like plums, asses like basketballs, tummys like rolling hills. They gave you just enough to make you think about them. And not too much that might make you want to forget them. And Janet Pilgrim was the first, the prototype. The Real Deal.
All three of her centerfolds feature Janet looking outward. A sheer wrapping, a white fur stole, breast barely peaking through. Her head tilted in two of the photographs, one with, possibly, a Martini, another in front of a Christmas tree, and yet another with a powderer, staring back as peaceful as hell. No funky orgasmic looks. No ass shots. No pubic hair. Just plan, cleaned up, hot ass woman. I swear, I can stare at her for days.
Which is one reason Playboy cannot be considered pornographic. From the beginning, its models have always displayed too much personality. With an internal logic dictated by a single goal stimulation the conceits and conventions of pornography demand personality’s absence. Faux ecstasy, the head turned aside and thrown back, the eyes firmly (and unthreateningly) shut, a fetishistic obsession with anonymous body parts pornography is degrading because it denies the person. Abnegation of self is the ultimate form of submission. But those Playboy centerfold models look you squarely in the eye. Self-possessed and undisguised, they challenge as much as they reveal, their identities as prominent as their bodies. They are women, not toys.
The present day Playmate doesn’t match up to Janet. Truth is that present day Playmates are nothing more than new age Bettie Pages and Jayne Mansfields. They have cultivated their bodies, defined their personalities, and forcefully dictated their presence for a Playboy audience. They were born, they were built, they are defined by Playboy. They’re nothing more than Six Thousand Dollar Girls. They truly are pornographic. They live to be pornographic. They are defined by their pornography. Pornography is who they are.
And it wasn’t supposed to be this way. There are many causes. I won’t go into them in great detail. The Internet, the lad mags, the overdevelopment of the American mind, especially in terms of sexual information, or over-misinformation, can all be pointed to as contributing factors. Playboy, falling miserably to try to compete on their level, losing sight of its own image.
But that’s getting off the point. The point is that I miss Janet Pilgrim. Or women like her. I miss the idea that sex could include art, that naked could be refined. That natural could be cultivated, and be manipulated, and still be natural. That’s what the Playmate of the Month was supposed to be, and what it isn’t anymore.
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