The Hefner we met at Playboy Mansion was a man who was proud of empire he embodied
THE death of Hugh Hefner has reminded me of a spring morning in 2009, when the late Gerry Ryan and I drove up the winding road in Los Angeles that leads to the Playboy Mansion. Neither of us had been there before, but it all felt strangely familiar. It seemed the mansion had taken on a life of its own: for almost four decades, it had provided the setting where sexual fantasies of every kind could be explored. Hugh Hefner was seen by some as a depraved pornographer – by others as a champion of free speech and sexual liberation.
The mansion was built in the 1920s, in the style of ‘Scotch baronial’. Gerry and I were ushered into the library, which felt like an old-fashioned gentleman’s club, with a good deal of polished wood and antique leather. There was also a large oil painting of Hefner above the fireplace. He was dressed in the costume of a Renaissance prince.
While we waited for ‘Hef’ to arrive, I picked up a copy of the current edition of ‘Playboy’. It didn’t appear to have changed much since I had first looked inside the magazine. There were still reviews of cars; articles from respected writers; a couple of celebrity interviews; a page of jokes; a sports preview. And, of course, there were still pictures of naked women. The nudes in that edition were all glossily wholesome. The Playmate of the Month was a Montessori teacher, with a degree in the liberal arts. Her biggest turn-off was men with “poor hygiene”. Her philosophy in life was always to “stay positive!” She was of Irish descent, and I thought she might make an excellent Rose of Tralee.
Before long, we were joined by Hefner’s personal photographer. She explained Hefner liked to record anything of interest that took place inside the mansion. His archive was then of immense size, and its cultural significance remains indisputable. For good or ill, Hefner played a central role in shaping sexual attitudes and mores in the US, and, therefore, in much of the rest of the world. His influence has even been felt in Ireland – despite ‘Playboy’ having been banned in this country for more than 40 years.
Suddenly, Hefner was there in front of us – wearing what had become his trademark costume: pyjamas, slippers and a smoking jacket. The origins of this ensemble can be traced back to the early years of ‘Playboy’. Working around the clock, Hefner had installed a bed in his office, and he could often be found at his desk, oblivious that was still in his pyjamas. In later years, that outfit came to suggest his louche sexuality: as if Hefner were ready to hop into bed at a moment’s notice, with whomever caught his fancy. He had naturally grown frailer with the passage of time, and, when we met him, the outfit seemed better suited to a nursing home.
Hefner had become somewhat deaf, but, otherwise, he seemed in pretty good shape. He began to talk of his glory years: the early 1960s – when ‘Playboy’ had seemed to carry all before it. This was the era captured in the TV series ‘Mad Men’, with Kennedy in the White House, and Sinatra playing Vegas. It was a time when American men drank, smoked, worked and played hard. It was also a time when they expected American women to know their place. According to an early article by Hefner, the fundamental role of men was “to go out and kill the sabre-toothed tiger”, while that of women was “to stay home and wash out the pots”.
Such views now seem absurd, but Hefner had stayed true to his original vision of sexual freedom for both men and women. We were taken into the gardens to be shown the famous Grotto. This was tucked discreetly behind an artificial waterfall, just beside the swimming pool. Generations of rock and movie stars, politicians and writers, athletes and models had come there to shed their clothes and inhibitions. There have been individual couplings and orgies on an epic scale, but there had also been one period when the sexual licence of the Grotto was revoked. That was during Hef ’s second marriage – to Kimberley Conrad, a former model and playmate. Hefner was recovering from a serious stroke when he met Kimberley, and he may have felt that his life needed more order and restraint. Soon after meeting her, he renounced his legendary bachelorhood.
It was not to last. The marriage failed amid claims of adultery, and Hefner was said to have been devastated by the experience. Given that he was almost 40 years older than Kimberley, the breakdown of his marriage might have inclined Hefner to seek a more mature partner. However, he soon returned to his old ways–with the help of a powerful new drug. Hefner called it the “fountain of youth”, but the drug is more commonly known as Viagra. He first took Viagra on his 72nd birthday – which he celebrated in the Grotto with four young models. “My marriage was over,” he told us, “but within three months, I was living with twins – Mandy and Sandy – who were 10 years younger
than Kimberley. And I had a third girlfriend – also in her 20s – called Brandee.”
Mandy, Sandy and Brandee had long gone – but Hefner’s appetite for dating very young women did not seem to have diminished. At that time, he had three new girlfriends, including another set of twins. Hefner was then 83-years-old – and the twins were just 19. It seemed to us that his sexual impulses had become uncomfortably close to paedophilia. However, it was difficult to reconcile the courteous and eloquent old man talking to us with the image of a sexual predator. He led us to his bedroom. At its centre was a chandelier, festooned with numerous pairs of knickers from all the women he had entertained there. It reminded me of the naïve bravado about sex sometimes shown by adolescent boys.
They say that anyone will become respectable if they can live long enough, and, by the time of his death, Hefner had been around for very long time. At the end of our filming, it felt like we were saying goodbye to a piece of living history. Hefner had claimed to be enjoying the lifestyle that most men fantasise about, and had described himself as the “luckiest guy alive”. But he still seemed rather isolated, and, perhaps, even lonely as he made his way up the stairs of the mansion, and back to his bedroom. That may explain why he decided to marry again in 2012. This time his bride was almost 60 years younger.
For many decades, Hefner epitomised that peculiar combination of consumerism and self-fulfilment that lies at the heart of the modern American dream. It seems strangely ironic that he should die during a US presidency that seems to represent a different and more alarming kind of fantasy.