Great story; I wish I’d found something that perverse. My mom had Playboys around for the interviews, and I used to stare at the pictures, though I was 8 and I didn’t feel anything…but why not?
A scrap of paper blew into the schoolyard and there was a picture of a hairy wide open vage on it, small and disembodied and about the size of a postage stamp. We all gaped, and it drew enough attention that an adult came and took it away. Hippie school , so no penalties.
It wasn’t until I was 13.5 that I really understood why people stared at pictures of naked ladies. Favorites were this Guinea-born Penthouse pet whose name escapes me, though she wasn’t that insanely distant from Vanessa del Rio, and Lana Wood and her traffic stopping cleavage tumbling the dice in Diamonds are Forever. (I bought a lobby card so I could study her closely).
Both Wood sisters, then, key in that Awakening. Every sixties film ever on the CBS 9pm movie had Natalie Wood traipsing around in her underwear.
Now, was it a perv trying to tear up the evidence, or was it a perv trying to show us junior high kids a bad picture? Given today’s attitudes toward pubic hair, that would have been enough to send today’s kids screaming into therapy.
Oh, this was definitely the man’s hiding place. He must have been horrified to see what my friend Kim had wrought. He didn’t want to be revealed. And, with hindsight, I don’t think of him as anything more than a very closeted man who either cross dressed or wished his life was not traditionally masculine. I mean, this was 1968, and this purse was not in Greenwich Village with Candy Darling. I just read her new biography yesterday, btw, when the power went out! I was forced to read a long book with a flashlight! By Cynthia Carr. It’s been nominated for a National Book Award, I think.
My first dirty picture was probably a centerfold in Playboy or Penthouse. Through my youth, I'd scour the secondhand stores on Clinton Street for cheap used copies of those magazines in good condition.
My first hardcore scene, the one which taught me how heterosexual intercourse actually worked (well, approximately) was in a now-defunct adult bookstore, also on Clinton Street. It was via one of those machines that looked kind of like a jukebox, and had a screen at about eye level. You dropped a quarter in, and then you got to watch 3 minutes of a scratchy, silent 8 millimeter film. If you were lucky, you got to see the real action. Usually, you had to pump in quarter after quarter to get past the abundant filler footage.
Well, I must've gotten really lucky that day, because when I plopped in my 25 cents, I was treated to a close-up of a couple banging, with the woman on top. The film showed the couple from the waist down, so nothing was left to the imagination. The way in which the woman rode the man was kind of stiff and mechanical, which was probably a porn convention from that era. Of course, the scene concluded with a regulation money shot.
Wow, more Lower East Side history! Film academics would go crazy to examine those reels. I wonder if someone has?
I don’t know if the peep show machines are still there (now I have to check!) but my local Boardwalk arcade (which has been around since 1907) also had those two-bit amusements.
—Not X-rated, because the Boardwalk is a family affair, but still, the old silent reels which often have titillating scenes and pranks. Like, “whoops!” your pants came down when a fast car drove by. A “car” joke of the period!
Dear Susie, first I got to say I was pleased you mentioned two of my heroes, Robert Crumb and Betty Dodson, in the same article. With regards to dirty pictures, I grew up in the 60s, when Playboy and mens magazines told us women did not have public hair. I had my doubts having seen classic art that proved the contrary--but those were women from hundreds of years ago. A turning point came when I was 16 and earning extra money moving furniture in a warehouse. On one Saturday, a group of us teens moved a couch and discovered a nudist camp magazine. There it was, all in black and white, women of all sizes, shapes and ages, all with public hair--in some cases lots of it. As the four of us huddled around the magazine, our supervisor, an older Black man who resembled Morgan Freeman, came up behind this. We showed him the magazine, which he thoroughly examined. He then looked at the four of us and said, ``Gentlemen, this is the real deal.'' We nodded in agreement. It would be years later when Penthouse made full frontal nudity with hair showing and no air brushing a regular feature.
I will tell you why I was with Robert and Betty at the same time, because it was so unusual. There was a third party as well, the wonderful Paul Krassner.
We were all asked to speak at a 80s gathering of “The Society for the Scientific Study of Sex” which is as nerdy and unpaid as it sounds. Crumb and Krassner must have agreed to attend because the concept was just too funny. I was asked to moderate! I opened the panel with the question I ask in this essay, “What was your first dirty picture?”
We all became true friends after this public event that was, besides sexually candid, a comic tour de force. You know how Paul could have a crowd pissing in their pantaloons. HIS first shocking picture came in the form of a “Tijuana Bible” (no relation to Mexico believe me) that was passed around a Queens schoolyard.
Well, Betty was no slouch in holding a crowd in the palm of her hand. Robert’s deadpan and indeed, poignant description of how he worshipped his brother and his burgeoning artistic talent.
I miss Paul and Betty terribly! Their wit, how fast they put together everything, their art and genius in all things. It didn’t happen that first time, but over the years, we became like family. Robert is still alive of course, and I imagine still heartbroken over the loss of his wife, Aline Kominsky. She was a spitfire too! We all were.
Oh my god! Krassner too!. Margo St. James introduced me to Krassner in 82. The evening I met Paul, he was feeling depressed because he was not invited to Robin Williams triumphant return to SF. But Margo cheered him up by reminding him of the times when she dressed up like a nun and the two of them would make out in public. I told Paul I had seen him at my college where he talked about Abby. Hoffman being literally knocked off the stage at Woodstock by Pete Townsend. Paul then shared stories of himself and Abby. I later mentioned seeing Ronald Reagan speak at the White House Correspondents Dinner. He insisted I repeat Reagan’s jokes. A wonderful experience. From the way Margo and Paul looked at each other that evening, they must have been lovers at some point in time. I so envy you seeing Paul, Robert and Betty st the same time. Thanks for sharing
Margo changed my life, teaching me to love myself. She later introduced me to Flo Kennedy who became a mentor. Flo helped me become a confident writer. Margo and Flo are responsible for much of my happiness these past decades. I am glad you got to know Margo.
No, it was a “grown-up” sort of clean out. I always assumed it was the man who was hiding his things there. Once he saw it had been disturbed, that was it.
my parents had this big walk-in closet ... i earned a prayer card in catechism with a picture of Jesus on it that the eyes would light up in the dark ... i would go into the closet and turn the light out and see Jesus with his eyes shining ... one time upon entering i saw a deck of cards ... we played a lot of cards in my family so it was no big deal to see some ... i opened them up and to my surprise, each one had a picture of a naked lady on it !! what a discovery ... i always figured the God had lead me to my first naked pictures so it must no be a sin to look ...
Great story; I wish I’d found something that perverse. My mom had Playboys around for the interviews, and I used to stare at the pictures, though I was 8 and I didn’t feel anything…but why not?
A scrap of paper blew into the schoolyard and there was a picture of a hairy wide open vage on it, small and disembodied and about the size of a postage stamp. We all gaped, and it drew enough attention that an adult came and took it away. Hippie school , so no penalties.
It wasn’t until I was 13.5 that I really understood why people stared at pictures of naked ladies. Favorites were this Guinea-born Penthouse pet whose name escapes me, though she wasn’t that insanely distant from Vanessa del Rio, and Lana Wood and her traffic stopping cleavage tumbling the dice in Diamonds are Forever. (I bought a lobby card so I could study her closely).
Both Wood sisters, then, key in that Awakening. Every sixties film ever on the CBS 9pm movie had Natalie Wood traipsing around in her underwear.
Isobel Garcia Orobiyi! How soon I forget!
“A scrap of paper blew into the schoolyard!” An illicit scrap! It’s amazing what kids will find, eh?
Now, was it a perv trying to tear up the evidence, or was it a perv trying to show us junior high kids a bad picture? Given today’s attitudes toward pubic hair, that would have been enough to send today’s kids screaming into therapy.
Oh, this was definitely the man’s hiding place. He must have been horrified to see what my friend Kim had wrought. He didn’t want to be revealed. And, with hindsight, I don’t think of him as anything more than a very closeted man who either cross dressed or wished his life was not traditionally masculine. I mean, this was 1968, and this purse was not in Greenwich Village with Candy Darling. I just read her new biography yesterday, btw, when the power went out! I was forced to read a long book with a flashlight! By Cynthia Carr. It’s been nominated for a National Book Award, I think.
My first dirty picture was probably a centerfold in Playboy or Penthouse. Through my youth, I'd scour the secondhand stores on Clinton Street for cheap used copies of those magazines in good condition.
My first hardcore scene, the one which taught me how heterosexual intercourse actually worked (well, approximately) was in a now-defunct adult bookstore, also on Clinton Street. It was via one of those machines that looked kind of like a jukebox, and had a screen at about eye level. You dropped a quarter in, and then you got to watch 3 minutes of a scratchy, silent 8 millimeter film. If you were lucky, you got to see the real action. Usually, you had to pump in quarter after quarter to get past the abundant filler footage.
Well, I must've gotten really lucky that day, because when I plopped in my 25 cents, I was treated to a close-up of a couple banging, with the woman on top. The film showed the couple from the waist down, so nothing was left to the imagination. The way in which the woman rode the man was kind of stiff and mechanical, which was probably a porn convention from that era. Of course, the scene concluded with a regulation money shot.
Wow, more Lower East Side history! Film academics would go crazy to examine those reels. I wonder if someone has?
I don’t know if the peep show machines are still there (now I have to check!) but my local Boardwalk arcade (which has been around since 1907) also had those two-bit amusements.
—Not X-rated, because the Boardwalk is a family affair, but still, the old silent reels which often have titillating scenes and pranks. Like, “whoops!” your pants came down when a fast car drove by. A “car” joke of the period!
Dear Susie, first I got to say I was pleased you mentioned two of my heroes, Robert Crumb and Betty Dodson, in the same article. With regards to dirty pictures, I grew up in the 60s, when Playboy and mens magazines told us women did not have public hair. I had my doubts having seen classic art that proved the contrary--but those were women from hundreds of years ago. A turning point came when I was 16 and earning extra money moving furniture in a warehouse. On one Saturday, a group of us teens moved a couch and discovered a nudist camp magazine. There it was, all in black and white, women of all sizes, shapes and ages, all with public hair--in some cases lots of it. As the four of us huddled around the magazine, our supervisor, an older Black man who resembled Morgan Freeman, came up behind this. We showed him the magazine, which he thoroughly examined. He then looked at the four of us and said, ``Gentlemen, this is the real deal.'' We nodded in agreement. It would be years later when Penthouse made full frontal nudity with hair showing and no air brushing a regular feature.
I will tell you why I was with Robert and Betty at the same time, because it was so unusual. There was a third party as well, the wonderful Paul Krassner.
We were all asked to speak at a 80s gathering of “The Society for the Scientific Study of Sex” which is as nerdy and unpaid as it sounds. Crumb and Krassner must have agreed to attend because the concept was just too funny. I was asked to moderate! I opened the panel with the question I ask in this essay, “What was your first dirty picture?”
We all became true friends after this public event that was, besides sexually candid, a comic tour de force. You know how Paul could have a crowd pissing in their pantaloons. HIS first shocking picture came in the form of a “Tijuana Bible” (no relation to Mexico believe me) that was passed around a Queens schoolyard.
Well, Betty was no slouch in holding a crowd in the palm of her hand. Robert’s deadpan and indeed, poignant description of how he worshipped his brother and his burgeoning artistic talent.
I miss Paul and Betty terribly! Their wit, how fast they put together everything, their art and genius in all things. It didn’t happen that first time, but over the years, we became like family. Robert is still alive of course, and I imagine still heartbroken over the loss of his wife, Aline Kominsky. She was a spitfire too! We all were.
Oh my god! Krassner too!. Margo St. James introduced me to Krassner in 82. The evening I met Paul, he was feeling depressed because he was not invited to Robin Williams triumphant return to SF. But Margo cheered him up by reminding him of the times when she dressed up like a nun and the two of them would make out in public. I told Paul I had seen him at my college where he talked about Abby. Hoffman being literally knocked off the stage at Woodstock by Pete Townsend. Paul then shared stories of himself and Abby. I later mentioned seeing Ronald Reagan speak at the White House Correspondents Dinner. He insisted I repeat Reagan’s jokes. A wonderful experience. From the way Margo and Paul looked at each other that evening, they must have been lovers at some point in time. I so envy you seeing Paul, Robert and Betty st the same time. Thanks for sharing
Such good friends. Margo was one of mine, too. These people . . . Talk about the salt of the earth.
Margo changed my life, teaching me to love myself. She later introduced me to Flo Kennedy who became a mentor. Flo helped me become a confident writer. Margo and Flo are responsible for much of my happiness these past decades. I am glad you got to know Margo.
I wonder who cleared out the nest? Was it your friend, came back without you?
No, it was a “grown-up” sort of clean out. I always assumed it was the man who was hiding his things there. Once he saw it had been disturbed, that was it.
my parents had this big walk-in closet ... i earned a prayer card in catechism with a picture of Jesus on it that the eyes would light up in the dark ... i would go into the closet and turn the light out and see Jesus with his eyes shining ... one time upon entering i saw a deck of cards ... we played a lot of cards in my family so it was no big deal to see some ... i opened them up and to my surprise, each one had a picture of a naked lady on it !! what a discovery ... i always figured the God had lead me to my first naked pictures so it must no be a sin to look ...
Oh those precious naughty cards! Where did I put my pack?