The Facts:

Birthplace: Orange, California USA

Bust: 37″

Waist: 24 1/2″

Hips: 36″

Height: 5′ 10″

Weight: 125 lbs

Ambitions:
To be successful in life, true love and family.

Turn-ons:
Smell of rain, horseback riding, candlelight, ski resorts, dancing.

Turnoffs:
Judgmental people, bad posture, spitting, negativity, jealousy.

Food & Drink:
Dry white wine and French bread, Ruffles chips and dill pickles.

Hot Time:
Dressing sexy for a night on the town with good friends — and dancing in a moving convertible.

Dream Guy:
He’s romantic, impulsive and madly in love with me. He has sexy eyes and looks great in 501 jeans!

The Best Part Of Making Love:
A lover’s fingertip caress.

On The Cover

LaToya Jackson

Photographed by Arny Freytag.
Married when photographed.

Contents

Interview:

Tom Hanks

Pictorials:

Pamela Des Barres photographed by Richard Fegley, La Toya Jackson photographed by Stephen Wayda.

20 Questions:

Fred Dryer (Hunter)

Features:

“Let’s Make a Drug Deal” by Reg Potterton
“My Brother’s First Climb” by Craig Vetter.

The big attraction was LaToya Jackson. Seeing LaToya buck-naked was a big deal back then. The Jacksons were a big deal. Michael was finally full-blown white, like a ghost, and his nose was on the verge of disappearing. And LaToya. She was married, and many believed she was losing it. Her nudity, coming from the Jehovah Witness lovin’ Jackson clan, was news. And she would appear naked with a snake.

I remember being no older than 12 or 13. My older cousin, who was only 15 at the time, had gotten a copy of the magazine. He brought it with him when he came by the schoolyard. Yeah, I know, pornography on the school grounds, being viewed by kids no younger than 12, and no older than 16. Today, it probably would be seen as child abuse or something. I’m glad I didn’t grow up later when “everything” became regulated and watched.

Ah, the good ole days: getting sips of beer from relatives at the age of 9, losing my virginity at 13, smoking a blunt at 14, N.W.A. blaring through a cheap ass tape player, watching “I’ll Spit On Your Grave” at least 3 times by the age of 15. Yep, the good ole days when the corruption of the youthful mind by mass media was still no big deal.

Now getting back to the magazine. I honestly have no recollections of the Pamela Des Barres pictorial. Maybe if I saw it again, I would remember. But what I do remember still til this very day is Laurie Wood. Most of the images that have stuck with me are the bathroom scenes, her body wet from top the bottom, thin clothing clinging to her body. And no offense, but Laurie made pubic hair look good, drenched and heavily hanging from the center of her body. It makes you wonder why the woman of today choose to go bald. The majority of my favorite playmates have hair down there. And a couple of them hang like the wilderness, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, after seeing Laurie’s pictorial, the draw for wanting to see the magazine changed. I bugged my cousin several times after that. And the majority of the time I spent it “viewing” Laurie. At least until he didn’t have the magazine anymore. One day he took it to school with him. His friends bugged out while viewing LaToya in a class. The teacher caught them and took away the magazine. He never got it back.

But it didn’t matter. Because that little taste began my love-hate affair with Playboy. Every couple of months after that I would find a way to get my hands on a copy of the current mag. When I turned 16 I began making my monthly track to my local newspaper stand to pick up a copy. Playboy, along with comic books and rock and rap cds, became a regular standard of my monthly purchases.

Today, for the first time in a long time, I do not have a subscription to Playboy. And I only read about 2 or 3 comics a month. Rock is almost dead to me. And rap is getting close to burial. I don’t know if it’s time or age or both. But it’s getting pretty close to “lights out.”

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