Bunny Tales Page 13

  It is obvious that the magazine is Hef’s true love and passion. Day in and day out, I heard him shuffle down the hall to the offices next to my bedroom to do his work. At his age, he could easily stop working and enjoy his life. But I don’t think he considers what he does work; the magazine is his life.The magazine allowed him to blossom not only intellectually but also sexually. He grew up in a strict, Puritan Chicago family. His father was an accountant, his mother a Methodist disciplinarian. He has said there was never any show of affection in his house. Hef was an average-looking guy, who was rejected by his first love, and eventually married the girl next door, to whom he lost his virginity. According to his own admission, Hef created a new persona for himself. This new guy was Hef, the Playboy, the suave magazine founder whom girls loved and was a sexually free being. His entire identity is related to the magazine. It had brought him not only his riches but also an active personal life. Back in Chicago, and more recently in Los Angles, most of the women who were being photographed for the centerfold also stayed at the Mansion. Hef has said that during some years he was involved with as many as eleven out of twelve Playmates being featured any given year. Hef was used to dating more than one woman at a time, and that explains why there were six or seven of us when I lived at the Mansion. It was something he was accustomed to.

  Hef would constantly relate everything to Playboy. As in the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding where the father believed that every word originates from the Greek language; Hefbelieves that everything is somehow connected to Playboy. And yes many times, the stories made me proud. Sometimes he was just over the top, but it was amusing and I understood his pride. Without Playboy he would still be the awkward-looking guy with dreams of romance. When you look closely, Hef is something of an anomaly in his glamorous surroundings.

  At the most basic level, Hef is a creature of habit. He is the most regimented person I have ever met. His life revolves around a strict schedule, one that has not changed for decades. He wakes up every day between 10 and 11 a.m. He eats an English muffin with butter and strawberry jam, reads the newspaper, puts on his black silk pajamas, and makes his way down the hall to the office where he works until about 5 p.m., when he eats his daily (instant) Lipton’s chicken noodle soup and crackers. He is still the editor-inchief of Playboy magazine, while his daughter from his first marriage, Christie, is the CEO of Playboy Enterprises, of which the magazine is a small part. To create the magazine, Hef literally pastes up articles by hand, goes through photos with a magnifying glass, picks the Playmates himself—he even selects the jokes. And most afternoons, you’ll find him in the den off the main foyer, where some starry-eyed journalist practically wetting himself to be inside the Mansion listens as Hef holds forth on the First Amendment, the events of the day, and his place in history. As discussed earlier, the evenings are equally structured; each night has its designation.

  Hef is a true original, one of a kind. I loved the fact that he walks to the beat of his own drum. He sleeps in until he wakes up naturally; there are no alarm clocks, so the day starts when he is ready. His office is down the hall, where it is convenient for him. He wears pajamas all the time; black silk pajamas for work, and various colors during the evening. His favorite are the purple ones because they match his smoking jacket. He sleeps in baby-blue flannel pajamas; there are also identical ones in pink for us girls to sleep in. When he goes out, he wears the black Armani suit and custom-made shirts in all different colors with white collars and cuffs. He also has his one casual outfit; a pair of jeans, a red casual shirt, and a grey tweed-ish jacket. That was the one outfit he always wore on our casual outings, if we went to dinner at a casual place or when he went to the dentist. I wanted to buy him a new pair of jeans, a new “casual” shirt, and a more stylish jacket, but anytime we tried to give him something new and improved, he just thanked us and continued with his old ways.

  Hef eats all of his meals in bed; breakfast, his later afternoon soup, and then dinner, which he eats late at night, usually as he prepares to watch a movie in bed. On buffet dinner nights, he sits at the table and drinks his classic Jack and Pepsi, while everyone eats. He never seemed interested in what was being served at the buffet—he has a list of a few things he likes and sticks to those tried and true favorites. The kitchen has specific instructions on how to make his food, and there is another set of instructions on how to serve it to him—each food item has a specific place on the tray. The butlers have a book downstairs so that they can always follow the specific directions, because Hef does not like things to be different. His favorites are lamb chops, fried chicken, and the occasional cheeseburgers and fries. His dinner always comes with applesauce and a glass of cold milk, and sometimes with potato chips. Hef also enjoys a Häagen-Dazs strawberry ice cream cone for dessert, which he got me hooked on as well. What was really peculiar about Hef is that when we went out for dinner, he would not eat the restaurant food. Our kitchen prepared his regular lamb chop dinner, along with the applesauce and peas, and would have it delivered to the restaurant before we arrived for our dinner. And when the restaurant kitchen was taking a long time with his dinner he would always get anxious and annoyed—after all, it was already prepared. So even though he took us out for sushi and all sorts of other things, he never tried any of it; occasionally he nibbled on something he recognized, but he always ate his own food made just the way he liked it. The one thing we got him to try was edamame (soy beans); at first he was skeptical, but then he liked them so much he began to order them, and still does, all the time.

  Christmas and Thanksgiving were the only two occasions each year when Hef ate dinner at the dining room table with everyone else. He sits at the head as always, and the Girlfriends follow on each side. Also seated at the table is his younger brother Keith with a date, and his daughter Christie and son David with their significant others. The other usual suspects are seated elsewhere. Christmas at the Mansion was fun and festive. It was not a religiously significant experience; it was a secular Christmas. On Christmas Eve we had a buffet dinner and a movie. On Christmas Day we also had a buffet dinner followed by a movie. The buffet dinner includes turkey and ham, always amazingly prepared. Because we watched a movie after dinner, it was basically like any other Sunday but fancier. After Christmas dinner everyone gathered in the living room/theater for a group photo, which we usually had to do twice because the group was so large. We opened our presents on Christmas Eve after the movie. We’d all run to Hef’s room and start off with the stockings. Then we moved onto the huge bags under the mantle with our names on them; one bag for every girl. Thanksgiving was fairly similar, a formal buffet dinner and a movie. I would have dinner with Justin and his family during the day, and then return to have dinner at the Mansion.

  As for alcohol, Hef is loyal to his pal Jack Daniels and Pepsi. Occasionally he had a Mai Tai, umbrella and all. Once in a while we got him to do a shot with us, usually something sweet like a Red-Headed Slut. He always drinks in moderation throughout the week, but there were times that Hef got drunk on the nights we went out. Emma would turn to me and say, “Dude, your boyfriend is wasted, you better keep him in line,” and then we would look at him lovingly and laugh. We could always tell when he had a buzz because his shirt would be open down to the middle of his chest, and he would be busting a move on the dance floor. He was always so giddy and chatty with us; it was cute and I liked it when he got drunk and silly. Hef definitely had his endearing moments; he was charming and witty. I loved it when I recognized him in one of those good moods. He would make these adorable dolphin sounds. I have a few pictures of when he is at his most silly and human, and when I look at them I remember those moments fondly.

  Another thing I really love and respect about Hef is his soft spot for animals. He has rescued many animals, which now call the Mansion their home. He allows the girls to keep many pets. I cannot imagine many iconic men like Hef, who picks up the poop of his Girlfriends’ dogs and doesnt mind it. I always found it charming. He genuinely
likes and cares for all animals. If I know anything about human nature, I know that a person who cares about animals is a good person.

  One of the things I admire about Hef is the fact that he is a gracious and generous host. He holds dinners and parties for his circle of friends all week long and throws fantastic, elaborate, and expensive parties for many lucky invitees and the various charitable causes he participates in.

  He is also giving on a personal level. The things I remember dearly include the fact that when my parents came for my law school graduation, he invited them to come to Magic Castle—a restaurant that also offers various magic shows—with us, and they had a great time. When my mom visited on her own, he invited her to come to dinner with us on more than one occasion; she had a great time and felt honored to share the experience with all of us. When my friends came to visit, he always welcomed them and invited them to come out to dinner with us or whatever it was that we were doing at the time. When my friend Niki came to Los Angeles for her bachelorette weekend, Hef permitted all of the girls at the party to stay at his $4 million “Playmate house,” which was used for the filming of Playboy: Who Wants to be a Playboy Centerfold, down the street from the Mansion. He also invited them to come to the Mansion for their meals and to come out with all of us to clubs. Not to mention that he allowed me to throw Niki’s bachelorette party poolside and in the grotto. As far I know, she is the only woman who had her bachelorette party there. I am grateful for his generous hospitality because my family and friends got to share with me the experience of living at the Mansion. My parents were so excited to be at the Mansion New Year’s Eve party; they had never seen a party like that before or even had the chance to enjoy something like the grotto—they got to live out many people’s dreams. I am appreciative because Hef, whether directly or indirectly, brought happiness to the people I love and care about. I know some people who watch The Girls Next Door cannot believe how Kendra’s grandma or Bridget’s family like Hef so much. They do not understand how warm, kind, and polite Hef is. And they forget that the parents or family don’t necessarily know the full extent of the relationship between the girls and Hef; from what they see, their girls are being treated wonderfully by this kind older gentleman.

  Hef is used to entertaining; he has a big group of friends he considers his “extended family,” whom he wines and dines all week long. The open-door policy toward his friends stems from childhood, and many of his friends are in a time warp with him. We got to know Hef’s friends at the weekend buffet dinners. The most important one in the group is Keith Hefner, Hef’s younger brother, a very gracious man who I like very much. There is also big band leader Ray Anthony, who had once been married to American actress and sex symbol Mamie Van Doren, and is the sweetest man. There were many more that I never got to know despite living in the Mansion for more than two years. I heard that when Hef was married to Kimberly, she trimmed the guest list and the frequency of the gatherings. His friends called it the Dead Ball Era, when parties became black tie instead of lingerie. I can certainly understand Kimberly’s motives; she was married and had two small children; she didn’t want a bunch of people always hanging around the house.

  Although I know that some people genuinely care about Hef, some seemed to me to be taking advantage of his generosity. They were there several nights a week set aside for dinner and the movie. When we watched the movies, Hef and us girls were on the leather couch. The second couch was reserved for Keith and his date, and other alternating guests. The rest of the guests sat in chairs behind and beside the couches. There were also some pillows in front our sofa on the floor, where about four or five people lay. Sometimes the movie would be of interest to the kids and Hef’s sons would come over. I remember a few of the people complaining about the kids taking their spots. I could not believe their nerve. These were Hef’s children—the man who owns the house and kindly invites them to dinner and to watch movies with him several times a week. How rude.

  Sometimes the guests were “banned” if they crossed the line with a Girlfriend. Apparently, one Fun in the Sun Sunday Roxy was having a water fight with someone and accidentally splashed a male guest. The man grabbed her by the arm and scolded her. She complained to Hef, and he was banned. The man gave it some time and apologized to Roxy and Hef. Eventually all was forgiven—Hef has a good heart, and the guest was allowed back into the exclusive Mansion circle of friends.

  Meanwhile, Hef’s relationship with his real family seemed very casual if not strained at times. His daughter Christie, who runs Playboy Enterprises, ignored the fact that we were his Girlfriends for the most part. Since the day I met Hef, I have wanted to meet Christie Hefner, the young female CEO of the most famous men’s magazine. I imagined her to be articulate and intelligent. And so it happened that a couple of months after I met Hef, Christie and her husband were staying at the Mansion for a couple of days while in town for a benefit. Christie was in great physical shape, very confident and charming when she wanted to be, but she did have an intimidating quality about her. Christina Santiago, in her Playmate of the Year acceptance speech, said, “Christie, you scare me.” Hef introduced all of us girls to his daughter, and when he came to me, he informed Christie that I had just graduated from law school. “You know, before I took over the magazine, I was planning on attending law school as well,” she told me in a very friendly tone. I was pleased to have her respect and told her that if I had had the opportunity she had, I would have passed on law school as well.

  Holly, who didn’t seem to care much for Christie, informed me that Christie does not like “the girls.” I could understand if she did not like the Girlfriends mainly because we were an unnecessary expenditure. Hef was paying rent for the rooms we lived in, giving us spending money and paying for our cars, plastic surgeries, and other things. Clearly that money could be spent on other things, or could just be preserved as part of her and the other kids’ inheritance. I totally understood. But at the same time, we were her father’s Girlfriends. Maybe now that a reality show centered around the Girlfriends is on television, bringing Playboy a lot of attention and publicity, she is more accepting of the remaining three Girlfriends. When I started dating Hef, I learned from his friends that Hef and Christie clashed on several issues, such as the cost of his lifestyle—not only the Girlfriends, but also the parties and other entertaining expenses at the Mansion. I remember Hef’s birthday party in 2002 had to be downsized as a result of cutbacks. He didn’t seem happy about it, but he went along with it. It is also my opinion that Playboy ownership of adult channels and acquisition of The Hot Network, The Hot Zone, and Vivid TV from Vivid were largely driven by Christie. I think Hef would have been happy just to have the magazine, but financial reality dictated otherwise. I don’t think he is proud of the more graphic aspects of the business, but that’s the cash engine that drives the company.

  Besides Christie, Hef’s most famous child, there are also three sons. Everyone knows about Marston and Cooper, his two young sons with former Playmate Kimberly Conrad. Marston and Cooper seem like great kids. Besides being mischievous—boys will be boys—they were very creative and artistic. Even as little boys they were making films, starting their own play magazines, writing stories, and creating Web sites. I believe they have a wonderful future ahead of them. I can only imagine how strange it must be to grow up in the environment they are in. I was told by one of the butlers that now, as they enter their teenage years, they are starting to realize who they are; they understand their wealth and power. He also told me that they are becoming more rebellious, and that Cooper has been sent to boarding school and Marston may join him soon. In my opinion, they are good kids. I remember on Christmas they went to a novelty store with their mom and came back with little gift for all of us, which they left by our bedroom doors. I got a Hello Kitty wallet and stickers. I was touched by the gesture. All of us girls put some money together and got the kids presents in return. I think the boys will make terrific successors to the Playboy empire. They are
good-looking and very social and have good manners. I remember one time at a Spice Network premiere party at the Mansion, as we were getting ready for a picture to be taken, Hef suddenly left to speak with someone. Seeing an opportunity, Marston stepped in and sat in the middle of the group in Hef’s place. We all laughed, and the cameras went wild.The future of Playboy is bright indeed.

  Hef has another grown son about whom many people don’t seem to know anything: David Hefner, who is a couple of years younger than Christie. Some girls didn’t even know he had an older son until he showed up at the Playboy Jazz Festival. David seems reserved but has always been very nice to me, and I enjoyed seeing him at the festivals, during the holidays, and at other Playboy events.

  Now eighty years old, Hef remains the company mascot: he continues to vigorously sell the magazine and the lifestyle associated with it by using his own life as the example. Those who see him on television making appearances to promote the magazine and his image as the ultimate playboy see a witty, gracious man. But only a few people get to see the other sides of Hef, the sides that living at the Playboy Mansion for two years slowly revealed to me: insecure and egotistical, controlling but naïve.

  It is as difficult to label my relationship with Hef as it is to explain its nature. Hef was my boyfriend, my friend, and yet, at times, a stranger. When people asked if he was my boyfriend, I instinctively said no. Most of the time, the girls and I claimed that status only when we needed to—to pull rank and to assert ourselves for one reason or another. Initially he played the boyfriend role more than later on in the relationship. There were tender moments, real conversations, and genuine fondness. I remember shortly after I moved in and decorated my room, he came in and noticed my reproduction of a Dalí painting and my Picasso’s Guernica tile. We discussed art and had real conversations, not just that phony baloney “Hi honey” or “Hi daddy” nonsense—we used to call Hef “honey” most of the time; sometimes we called him “Daddy” when being flirtatious and coy. I don’t remember where the terminology came from, who invented it, but those were terms we all used. There were real moments with Hef at the beginning of our relationship, but they became increasingly rare as time went by.