The Laughing Wolf

Playboy (And Naked Girls!)

The one question that almost invariably arises from my resume is some variant of “How did you get a photographic internship at Playboy?

The quick answer is that I took a dare. The longer answer makes this a good Saturday post. I had started out in engineering before discovering that I had a far better talent at explaining science and technology than in creating it. The process of discovery included assignments covering the first Shuttle launches and more, so by the time I formally changed my degree – and college – I already had a fair portfolio of articles and broadcasts to my name.

My original intention had been to go into fiction, but when I transferred up to Columbia College Chicago, I found myself talking with the new head of the journalism department and changing plans yet again. Thus, I found myself formally enrolled in journalism and in need of an internship. Daryl Feldmeir, the head of the program, was talking to me about this one day at a Freedom of Information Act conference he had several of us attending.

Daryl had been fascinated with some of the photography and photojournalism I had done, particularly in regards space, and was of the opinion that I did not need an internship just for the writing experience and clips. Somewhere during the discussions held during breaks (and boring presentations) that day, he leaned over and said that with my photography background, he dared me to call Playboy and ask for an internship.

In my younger and more foolish days, I would take off with a 50 lb. pack for 50 miles in a weekend, jumped out of planes, and even learned to fly them. I had a thing about dares, and he knew exactly how to punch my buttons and did so, I suspect, with a large grin. My Celt came up and I leaned over to him and told him that I would call them.

At the next break, he leaned over and said “You know, one of the trustees (of CCC) is a vice president there.” Within about 48 hours I had all the information I needed, placed a call to the VP, and ended up talking instead with the lady who had taken his place as VP. A meeting was scheduled and I interviewed with her. Now, she was looking for art interns as it turned out, but she said that she knew what to do.

A few weeks later, I was interviewing with the studio manager at Playboy. I started the next day, with the proviso that I was to forget everything I thought I knew about photography. They wanted to teach me from the ground up, and did so.

Now, people know the obvious that is done there, but a lot more goes on. There is product photography, location/scene photography, portraits, and even passport photos. A number of newspaper and magazine columnists had their head shots for their publications done there, and we did a fair bit of photography for non-Playboy models and model agencies – who would never admit that any of their work was done there. Indeed, it formally was not, but was simply done by the photographers on the side.

I learned an incredible amount that has made me a much, much better photographer. For that, I thank in particular David Mecey, David Chan, and Randy Goss. Each of these fine people spent lots of time with me, and explained the art and science behind each action and decision, so that I had a great grasp of the fundamentals.

Before you ask, there are no photographs from any of the shoots. One thing I did walk away with was a respect for the magazine and how it took care of people. There were both formal and informal rules in place to protect one and all. No recognizable photos leave the building, and in fact they had the same model shredder that State used to put in embassies overseas. That still didn’t keep people from dumpster diving in the hopes of finding anything, and as a result the dumpster had to be kept inside under guard and brought out when the truck came. If that still goes on, please allow me to say “Get a life!”

The informal rules meant that only three people could ask a model out for any reason. One was the photographer, with whom it is very important the model be comfortable. The other was the writer assigned to write about them in the magazine. The third was the top editor, though that rarely happened. The models could, however, ask out anyone they chose, and I was lucky enough to be so asked one time. I promptly cashed out my $40 life savings and treated her the best I could with those meager funds.

One crossed the informal rules at your peril, and I know of one person – before my time – who was blacklisted in every major market because of an infraction of same. Nothing formal, mind you, but for what happened I understood and agreed with how far the word spread.

I learned a bit about politics and good management while I was there. The politics were not fun, but the management lessons were invaluable. Randy Goss taught me much there, and made me think about initiative and more in the process. Ms. Hefner also taught me a bit about good management. She was not only making some changes, but still took the time to keep up with things well below her station. I was out with David Chan doing some location work one day at the old Chicago mansion, when Ms. Hefner drove by. She spotted me, did not recognize me, and immediately took the time to find out who I was, what I was doing, and how I was doing. This all took place without my knowledge, but when I was made aware it made a lasting impression.

The only real negative to my time there was that I started drinking soft drinks. These were supplied for free and even encouraged in those days, and I soon found myself drinking 4-12 in a day in lieu of coffee or such. Between that and the food – did I mention the food yet? Oh, forgive me. One of the informal rules was that when shooting was going on, the photographer bought lunch. This meant not a chain sandwich, but catered delights of which fantastic sandwiches might be one part. Since I helped one of the photographers with some of the after-hours/side jobs, it also meant that I was taken out to eat almost every night for a month up and down the Miracle Mile. It was quite an education for a naïve little Southern Boy, from the food to the treatment. No jacket and tie regulations for us, “Oh, no sir, you are an artiste! Seat them there at the good table” I started at Playboy with a 32-inch waist. I left with a 36-inch waist despite the exercise, and that is the only thing I truly regret about the experience.

Now, what does all this have to do with food for thought? Well, it’s like this. I was (finally) flexible in my plans for my future to go where I was nudged. I was willing to take a good dare for the right reasons. I made myself open to new opportunities and committed to trying to recognize them when they appeared. All of this got me that internship, and it has gotten me other opportunities and work over the years. Be open, be flexible, and be committed to spotting the opportunities in your life. Who knows what may come your way.

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