Despite my shortcomings, I was bequeathed the lofty title of service editor of Penthouse magazine, the best job in the world. I just couldn’t believe Paul would willingly give up such a plum, especially to someone who could barely drive a car, had no idea how a stereo worked, and had trouble focusing a camera. I was the woman for the job of service editor. My short stint at Viva had been all about coming up with punning headlines and appeasing advertisers. Donleavy and I’m stuck editing an article on radar detectors,” he groused. “I’m flying to London tomorrow to meet with J.P. Paul was as eager to dump his unwanted editorial task as I had been. It didn’t matter if what you produced was a lemon purchase a full-page ad in Penthouse and your Isuzu or Yugo would be written about and photographed as lovingly as if it were a Pet of the Month. In reality the service we provided was for the advertisers, plugging their products in glowing terms. Service supposedly meant consumer services, as if we were doing the readers a favor by running reviews of cars, motorcycles, electronics, and cameras. Paul had literary taste of the first water backed by the deep pockets of Penthouse, which let him purchase stories and book excerpts by Gore Vidal, Philip Roth, James Baldwin, Paul Theroux, and other high flyers.īy rights a fiction editor who worked with five-star authors should be above dealing with humdrum service articles. I was sent off to talk to Paul Bresnick, who had the competing titles of fiction and service editor.
Now that I was sprung from my smutty epistolary prison, the question was what I would do for those six hours a day I was not at lunch. Not only that, but those who keep tallies on the escalating totals tell us that–at this point, anyway–the race is just too close to call.North Country Girl: Chapter 67 - The Best Job in the Worldįor more about Gay Haubner’s life in the North Country, read the other chapters in her serialized memoir.Īs editorial assistant at Penthouse magazine, my duties were editing the vile Letters section, a daily dose of saltpeter to my own sex life (a task I finally ditched on someone else), and taking my boss out to three-martini lunches (slugging back a few glasses of life-and-sanity-saving white wine myself). The reason given was “ In an unprecedented break with tradition, we are not presenting the 1985 Pet of the Year in this December issue (in case you haven’t yet noticed!) The reason? It’s simple–your votes for your favorite Pets have almost literally snowed us under, and our local mailmen are threatening to demand time and a half for their extra burden. 1980 -Penthouse Pet of the Year Isabella Ardigoġ981 – Penthouse Pet of the Year Danielle Deneuxġ982 – Penthouse Pet of the Year Corinne Alphenġ983 – Penthouse Pet of the Year Sheila Kennedyġ984 – Penthouse Pet of the Year Linda Kentonġ985 – Penthouse Pet of the Year No Pet of the Year Here is our guide to the era of big hair, New Wave, lots of blush, and Reagan / Falwell. It lead one reviewer to remark “She must have sold her breasts to Satan for ice skating skills”. Harding’s attempt to further her 15 minutes of infamy sold some videos but looked too shady to be real. It was later pointed out that the video was pieced together from several encounters as her male partner had a mustache that appeared and vanished several times and at one point the waterbed they are using mysteriously teleports across the room. Embattled figure skater Tonya Harding had a “Leaked” sex tape that was supposed to be from her wedding night. Their next sex tape escapade proved profitable but further hurt Guccione’s credibility.
They did triumph when Pet Corrine Alphen landed a lead role in the John Landis film “Amazon Women on the Moon”, and again when they scooped the world with the leaked Pam Anderson / Tommy Lee sex tape. The worst missteps being dethroning the first African-American “Miss America” by publishing photos of her in the same issue where they featured a porn star “pet”, later discovered to be only 15 years old.
It would top its rival Playboy’s sales to start the decade, but missteps would cripple the magazine’s image before the eighties were over.
The 1980’s saw highs and lows for Penthouse magazine.
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