Conversations With People We Value #8
Funny what surfaces when digging through old dusty files. Recently some Playboy Bunnies tumbled out of a long forgotten banker box.
Over forty years ago, I hatched the idea for a story that combined interesting cars and beautiful women. Granted, while we’re not talking the great American novel, I did believe the odds of getting published were good.
Based on my proximity to McAfee, New Jersey, my idea called for writing a piece on Playboy Bunnies at the Great Gorge Playboy Resort who drove Corvettes. I pitched the idea to Corvette News. Their response? Absolutely! I was halfway home. Now, I only needed permission and cooperation from Playboy to provide access to the women who fit the story, if they existed, and to conduct interviews and photograph the women on the scenic Playboy resort grounds. How hard could that be?
To my pleasant surprise, Playboy embraced the idea. Game on for “Great Cars, Great Girls, Great Gorge.”
Playboy Bunnies in the rearview mirror
L-R Cathy, Kelly, Marie All photography by Burton Hall
Armed with a note pad, a pair of Nikons and boundless enthusiasm, I assumed the guise of the professional me as I approached the awaiting dream gig. I remember how rural it all felt as I navigated the two lane roads leading to what would be Hugh Hefner’s huge and subsequently failed bet that New Jersey would legalize gambling in the 1970s. My journey cut though farmland, cow pastures and woodlands until the Playboy Resort rose like a Mayan temple above the forest canopy. An approving wave at the security booth confirmed that all systems were go.
I still remember the Playboy PR staff. Jack Prather, Public Relations Director and his assistant, Mary Lander, put it together seamlessly. They introduced me to the three young women who would bring my idea to life. Kelly, Marie and Cathy, stunning in their royal blue VIP Room Bunny uniforms, would join me out in front of the resort to pose with one of their Corvettes. We would then reconvene at a scenic location off the golf course after they removed their Bunny suits and changed into casual clothes.
With bow tie, Bunny ears, cotton tail, 3-inch heels and a bustier-like body suit with a high thigh cut that made legs look like they went on forever, the Bunny suit transformed its occupant into a Playboy Club celebrity. Born from the creative vision of actress Ilse Taurins, the girlfriend of a Playboy executive in 1959, the Bunny suit, by 1960, achieved iconic status.
While feminists would view the wardrobe as clear evidence of subjugation and objectification, the women filling the suits, for the most part, viewed it as a strenuous and respectable way to make a very good living with the flexibility to attend college, raise children or pursue personal interests.
Kelly, Marie and Cathy clearly fit into the latter unsubjugated mind set. It should also be noted that Kelly, Marie and Cathy were not their real names. All bunnies took on a pseudonym as a security measure.
Kelly with a sunburst smile, cascades of chestnut curls and a Classic White 1973 Corvette with a 1970 LT1 small block loved fast cars and fast horses. She also had a 1967 E-Type under restoration and owned a Thoroughbred, a Quarter Horse and a Saddlebred that she intended to breed. Raised minutes from Great Gorge, she still lived on the family farm. Trained as a cosmetologist she had yearned for more social interaction. One Valentine’s Day six years prior, she went to Great Gorge for an interview. She had been a Bunny ever since.
Cathy, though a beautiful blue-eyed blonde, possessed real car guy instincts. Since buying her 1977 white on white Corvette three years earlier, she had clocked over 35,000 miles a year. “I had wanted a Corvette since I was 10 years old, “ Cathy said. She had to convince her dad as to the “wisdom” of buying the Corvette. Apparently she succeeded. Her sister got one too. “A nice day I am gone,” said Cathy, “Down through the south, up through New England, wherever my whims take me.” She expressed great pleasure at being a Bunny because of the financial and personal freedom it afforded her.
Marie with an infectious smile and engaging openness brought a natural athleticism to whatever she did. An accomplished skier and golfer, Marie brought her same signature spark and confidence to her time behind the wheel of her 1975 Silver Corvette. With no lack of serpentine back roads around Great Gorge and her love of the outdoors, Marie would have the T-tops off and a firm hand on the 4-speed every chance she got.
All three had achieved a level of respect and recognition at the resort as signified by their years of service and status as VIP Room Bunnies though each entered with different expectations
Marie’s introduction to Playboy started when she was sixteen and worked as kitchen help at the resort. Like Kelly she went to school for cosmetology but found it lacking in diversity and a wider population with which to interact. She returned to Great Gorge and put on the ears.
Cathy received her degree in Retail Management. While working for a men’s clothing chain, on a dare from her boss she packed her bikini and with much trepidation went for a Bunny interview. Cathy said, “while I now really enjoy being a Bunny, my first impression was quite different.” Cathy’s interview brought her to the New York Playboy Club. Watching the bunnies bustling passed, Cathy gulped self-consciously when she eyeballed the Bunny suit and how much of the Bunny was outside of the suit.
Bunny interviewing and supervision clearly qualified as woman’s work performed by the Playboy Club Bunny Mother. At that time at Great Gorge, Bunny Mother and former Bunny Sandra Schiffer ruled the hutch and made the decisions. Years later Ms. Schiffer’s daughter would follow in her mother’s Bunny tracks as a Playboy Bunny. At the interview a Bunny Mother selected from a large number of applicants with an eye to proportions and confidence that those chosen would maintain the Bunny image of the doe-eyed, adrenaline generating girl-next-door with lady-like discretion and the iron will of a Buckingham Palace Guard.
So natural and relaxed in front of a lens, for Kelly, Marie and Cathy whether together or alone, clearly the camera was their friend. All three had commented that whether working at the resort or making a personal appearance for Playboy, the first question they got would always be “what issue were you in?
“Many people assume that as a Bunny you must also be in the magazine,” said Cathy. Every so often a photographer would come to the club, inquiring of any women interested in test shot.
“I couldn’t do it,” said Kelly. “For those that do, fine, it’s just not me.
Said Cathy, “My father would put me six feet under. No question. I couldn’t stand the thought of walking into a service station and seeing that picture on the wall.”
Now in casual clothes, Kelly, Cathy and Marie posed with their respective cars displaying a natural poise that relegated the Corvette to that of fashion 
accessory. The day moved on till our work was done. I thanked them for their time, effort and grace.
Each would now prepare for work where bathed in the subdued candle light of the elegant Playboy VIP Room the young women would move among the patrons performing a graceful balance of focusing male attention with a charm and poise that would provoke no wife.
Weeks passed after I submitted “Great Cars, Great Girls, Great Gorge.” I received payment and a note. The staff loved the story. With the accompanying photography it had laid out very well, but. But? But, Corvette News had just changed editors and the story did not conform with the new editor’s personal values. The story would not run.
Until now.
, does anyone else find it curious when seeing solo drivers motoring along wearing face masks? Just sayin’.
ver, while formal events have vanished from the schedule, casual gatherings seem to be popping up like mushrooms on a dead log. This drive being one small example. For the participants, the drive served up a delicious slice of “driving with friends.”
If, when aimed to where the exhaust manifold outlets meet the head, the temperature of one outlet exceeds the others by one hundred degrees or more it could indicate a mis-adjusted valve, a burned valve or a lean cylinder caused by a malfunctioning injector. Being M-B exclusive Larry has a mastery of the idiosyncrasies and nuances of the vintage models in which he specializes. Together with his “intuitive wizardry” he often divines high probability problems before really attempting any invasive procedure.
Lately stories have been exchanged with other men and women, friends and strangers describing their “dog of my life.” If the stories are told in past tense regardless of the teller’s stern countenance, sand gets in their eyes. If the stories are in present tense, accompanying the joy comes a universal acknowledgment of how lucky they are and the immense respect they have for their canine partner.
“Georgie was a special soul. A gentle, intelligent and beautiful girl. Her generous happy spirit was contagious as she shared her joy and kindness. She was a unique being with an almost saintly energy. You were blessed with the love and time you all had together. She changed your lives. Her goodness lives within you.”
Away from the truck a path led to a rustic barn and sounds of a man at work.
Steve, a talented mechanic, is not one of the mega-rich. Born and raised on the island, Steve rents out his house and performs repairs for a local farm.
The very sound F350 chassis featured a 7.3-liter International diesel engine with the C6 3-speed automatic transmission. “The 7.3 is a good engine though not an exceptionally high performance engine, but It does sound cool,” says Steve with a smile.
We would go out for a few burn-out sessions and donuts in the field. “But,” says Steve, “I had to shut the project down. I had to focus on the kids. I no longer had the budget or the time.”
2014 ad found while I surfed The Samba.com website. “What country is it in?” Elaine asked with conversational interest. While not a “car guy,” Elaine always waxes fondly when recalling teenage cross country family road trips in her family’s 1970 Westfalia.
Memories of her father, a retired Jersey City motorcycle cop, her adventurous mother and BFF brother generate nothing but smiles when Elaine recalls 6-week escapes in the early 1970s where the family visited mountains, prairies, and, yes, oceans white with foam.
ile between her home and the van owner’s house.
k later while attending her first car show as an owner, she found an endless stream of visitors eager to sit inside the van. Little kids, parents, police officers all shared a common fascination. As the roll call of awards rang out over the sound system, the final award went to the “People’s Choice.” The people had chosen Elaine’s van.
van has become a locally recognized fixture as, together, they traverse the county in search of interesting garage sales and more importantly to manifest quality yoga experiences. Training as a yoga teacher, Elaine will incorporate her Westfalia in offering an open air yoga experience she has developed called “Roadhouse Yoga.”
With a burst of Pollyanna-like optimism, I thought maybe the frozen odometer was just an anomaly, waiting for a second chance to cure itself.
my friend and vintage car expert, Bob Tasman. Up on the lift went the Corvette. Under Bob’s doubtful but supportive eye my plan of peeling off 10 miles to “free” the odometer commenced. I surmised that rewinding two of the rotating number barrels would do the trick. Ten backward miles later, I left Bob’s shop to get a high speed highway head start at pushing that odometer through the 59,000 mile barrier. Bob in a friendly kind of way expressed his complete doubt at any chance of success. “One of the tangs in the head unit got broken or was improperly installed,” Bob said as I rumbled off with a shaken faith not unlike that of a small child seeing Santa drawing on a Marlboro behind the Macy’s Christmas display.
While I think I would have had a good case for justifiable homicide especially with a jury of vintage car owners, I instead have opted to simply enjoy my beautiful rumbling living recollection of mid-century American sports car history. Maybe the odometer will heal itself. If not, I am going on record for posterity that as of June 28th 2020 my 1961 Corvette had an honest 258,999.9 miles. I do not foresee ever selling it.