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  • Texas | Bill Cherry's Galveston Memories

    That I Played the Playboy Club Doesn’t Make Me Elderly

    by Bill Cherry

    A few weeks ago, Church of the Incarnation in Dallas, where Patty and I are members, sent us a letter to make certain we were aware of the spiritual programs that the church has available for “the elderly.”

    I was outraged! I sent a hot note back to them that said, “I’ll let you know when I’m elderly. Until then, count me out.”

    Still reeling from trying to fight down that idea, recently CBS’s KMOX-AM in St. Louis called. As part of the public’s interest in the new TV show, “The Playboy Club,” they wanted to interview a musician who had played at the St. Louis club.

    Playboy Club Bunnies with Hefner
    Photo Courtesy Playboy Enterprises

    They called the folks at the St. Louis Association of Musicians for a name.

    Although when we spoke anchor Carol Daniel didn’t come right out and say so, apparently I was the only one who the union could find who was still alive.

    Then Daniel quickly consoled, “You were only 22-years old. Most who played big gigs like that were at least 10-years older than you.”

    I wasn’t certain that was accurate, but I bought into it; otherwise, I would have had to admit to myself that I am a member of the “surviving elderly.”

    Back then during the days I was one of the comptrollers of a St. Louis bank. In the evenings, I often played the piano in local hotel dining rooms and restaurants.

    That’s how I got to play a few times in the Living Room at the city’s new Playboy Club. And believe me, it was an admired pedigree.

    Membership “keys” allowing entrance to each of the 40 Playboy Clubs were sold primarily to readers of Playboy Magazine. In the beginning, all of the food and drinks in the club were $1.50, whether it was a filet mignon dinner in the Penthouse, or the buffet in the first floor Living Room.

    The clubs ran tabs and a member’s consolidated statement was sent to him once each month.

    Local musicians like me played in the Living Room; famous ones like Ramsey Lewis and comedian Jack Carter did shows in the Penthouse.

    Contrary to what the new TV show infers, no foolishness was allowed at the club. The waitresses, called bunnies, were not allowed to fraternize with customers, whether at the club or after hours.

    In fact, they were prohibited from sharing any information, not even their last name, with customers.

    Guests were not allowed to touch or make inappropriate remarks to the bunnies.

    All of this and more was in a voluminous manual that instructed the bunnies.

    And classes were taught them by an older woman known as the bunny mother, on how to serve the guests.

    Bunnies had to learn and use the bunny stance, bunny perch, and the bunny dip.

    The bunny dip was a graceful but contorted way of placing a guest’s drink on his table without revealing more cleavage.

    Others keeping a watchful eye on behavior of bunnies and guests were the door bunny and the floor bunny.

    The bunnies knew that any violations were likely to cause their dismissal. And many of them were making more money than most of the club members. A lot more.

    Over the years, Hugh Hefner and I have corresponded from time to time. I still call him Mr. Hefner just as I did when we met nearly 50 years ago. He continues to insist I call him Hef even though he addresses me as Mr. Cherry.

    Throughout those years I’ve given him a lot of atta boys, and unsolicited criticisms.

    For an example, I thought he did the right thing when he made the recent decision to again take the Playboy Enterprises corporation into his private ownership.

    The other day I sent him a note telling him that the TV show portraying the Playboy Clubs as anything other than what they were is a real mistake.

    The Playboy Clubs were the acme of sophistication. They were not fancy dens of licentious behavior or meeting places for mistresses and hoodlums.

    I think Mr. Hefner should insist that the writer portray the truth.

    Hef and Bill do agree on one thing:  We'll be the ones to let you know when it's time for you to consider us as elderly. Today’s not that day.



    October 2 , 2011 column
    Copyright 2011 – William S. Cherry. All rights reserved
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    Bill Cherry, a Dallas Realtor and free lance writer was a longtime columnist for "The Galveston County Daily News." His book, Bill Cherry's Galveston Memories, has sold thousands, and is still available at Barnes and Noble and Amazon.com and other bookstores.
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