Authors: Izabella St. James
After class each day that summer, I went to quaint little cafés to do my homework and explored the city as much as I could. On the weekends the students were able to go on trips. We saw the Royal Salt Mine at Wieliczka, which is like a vast underground city. The historic salt mine is the only site in the world where mining has continued since the thirteenth century. It consists of nine levels going down to a depth of 358 yards and has 186 miles of galleries with works of art, altars, and statues sculpted in the salt, turning a trip down there into a fascinating pilgrimage into the past of a major industrial undertaking. Beneath the mine itself are numerous churches, chapels, and rooms for leisure activities. It is a fascinating underground world where everything is made out of salt; for example, the main cathedral has walls covered with salt sculptures of saints and scenes from the Bible, the altar is made of salt, even the chandeliers are made of salt. Sometimes the room is used for weddings. Wieliczka Salt Mine was entered into UNESCO’s first World List of Cultural and Natural Heritage in 1978. I was a little hesitant to go so far under the earth, but it was a fascinating one-of-a-kind experience.
However, the most memorable trip I took that summer was to the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp. Even though I had lived about thirty minutes from it for ten years of my life, I had never been there. It is not a place a child longs to visit. But now in adulthood, I was ready. Not only was it historically and culturally significant to me to visit this place, but it was also personal. It was painful to see the camp, and absolutely heartbreaking to know that my own grandfather had been there. It was such an overwhelming experience that I couldn’t find a place within myself to store what I saw and what I felt that day. I had nightmares for several days. I took pictures that day, though I don’t know why; I can’t bear to look at them. I suppose I needed to prove to myself that what I saw was real. I know I will have to go back one day, to share this experience with others. I think everyone should go there so that the horrors of the past will never be repeated. It’s a truly overwhelming look at one of history’s blackest eras.
Justin called me several times that summer, and it was nice to hear his voice. Despite the fact that we were on a break and I did not know what the future held, I missed him. He was my best friend, and it was hard not to speak to him and share all of my experiences with him. I knew that no matter what happened when I got back to L.A., he would be a part of my life. I didn’t get involved with anyone that summer; I took the time to be by myself, explore Polish culture, reconnect with family, and figure out what I wanted to do next. Being in Poland on my own and having the time to think, I decided I was not ready to jump back into a relationship with him. There were many things that needed to be worked out first, and I wanted some alone time to establish a life that wasn’t so reliant on his presence. I came to L.A. to do so many things and I fell in love with him before I had the chance to enjoy the city on my own terms. Now was the time to start fresh. I also thought about Hef and the Mansion from time to time and decided I would go to Fun in the Sun again, now that I did not have the restraints of a relationship. I kept receiving invitations to Mansion parties while I was gone, and I looked forward to going to a party when I got back. That was about the extent of my plans in regard to Hef. I never imagined what the future would bring. I looked forward to being independent, but I drew a certain comfort from the fact that Justin was there for me. I knew that he would be close by, and like I always tell myself, if it is meant to be, it will be.
4: Hanging with Hef .
“I couldn’t help it. I can resist everything except temptation.”
—Oscar Wilde
I
came back to Los Angeles refreshed and anxious to finish my last semester in law school. In September 2001, right at the beginning of the school year, my friend Niki came to visit me from Toronto. And just as I had done the year before, Niki, Justin and I went out to celebrate her trip and the last semester of my law school career. In a bizarre twist, what happened a year before repeated itself; I ran into Hef again. Not only once but twice that same week: on Wednesday at the Hollywood club Las Palmas (now LAX) and then on Friday at another club called Barfly. Was this fate? After a couple of drinks, I decided to go up and say hi to him. Justin and I became close when I returned that fall, but we did not get back into a relationship. I got my own apartment and he stayed over a lot; we were going to hang out and see where things went. That night, even Justin encouraged me to go say hi to Hef, and so I did. Hef seemed to remember me and was very happy to talk to me; he immediately invited me to come out with him and his girls the following Friday. The next day, I received a call from his assistant, Mary, who invited me to Barfly with Hef and his Girlfriends. After accepting, I was instructed to arrive at the Mansion at 10 p.m., and we would be departing around 10:30. I was still hesitant; I kept changing my mind until the moment I walked out of my door. What would I wear? Would the other girls be friendly? But in the end, my curiosity won out. And you know what they say about curiosity.
That night, although I didn’t know it, I was being recruited. I had a couple of the Girlfriends come up to me and tell me how much fun they were having, how much money they made, and what a great opportunity it was to live at the Mansion. I was told that Hef was interested in me and that I should give it a chance. It sounded almost too good to be true. Then I was told about “the bedroom.” After the club, they all go and party in Hef ’s room. I didn’t have to “do” anything at all; it was just a lot of fun. An alarm went off in my brain. I definitely did not want to go to Hef ’s bedroom, fun or not.
I didn’t know him. I don’t even
kiss
on the first date, let alone go to someone’s bedroom. And was this even a date?
I got out of the limo in front of the Mansion, thanked Hef for the night, got into my car, and went home as fast I could. A few days later, the tragedy of Sept. 11, 2001, occurred. Like the rest of the country, I was devastated, stunned, and scared. To my surprise, I received a personal call from Hef, asking me to go out with them. I told him I couldn’t, considering what had just happened, and expressed mild disappointment that he would consider going out at a time like this. He seemed taken aback by my tone and mumbled something about how “life must go on.” I agreed that life must go on, but it was much too soon. Later I came to realize that rain, snow, blackout, or any other natural disaster—Hef would still want to go out. Why? So he could have an after-party in his room.
After that, Hef kept on inviting me out and I went out with them several more times, but it was all very casual. Although I found Hef to be very nice and interesting and I always had a good time with him and the girls, I had no plans to get seriously involved with Hef. He invited me to be part of his group, an honor of sorts, at the Mansion’s annual Halloween party and even offered to pay for my costume and gave me a makeup and hair allowance. I received a check from one of Hef ’s assistants. I ended up going shopping with Holly, who was the new girl at the Mansion. It seemed to me that the other girls were not friendly with her and I wanted to befriend Holly. The party was great; it was so much fun being part of Hef ’s group. I was beginning to imagine myself as part of the party posse, but I disregarded such thoughts for two reasons: I was still in law school, and there was the bedroom issue. I heard from a model that had been hanging out with Hef for a few months that some of the girls had herpes, and it freaked me out. I never had any diseases, and I wanted to stay as far away from them as possible. After the party, I kept receiving calls from Mary; she is the one who calls to ask girls out on Hef ’s behalf. He rarely calls girls himself. Hef employs an elaborate system of procurement to keep the pipeline filled with willing nubile women. There’s a guy named Ron—short, with red hair and a beard—who is always out at clubs cruising for talent and trying to bring new girls into Hef ’s circle. The ones Hef isn’t interested in, Ron tries to date himself. I always see him with his Playboy Mansion notepad in hand to impress the girls and to appear legit, which cracks me up, but I like him; he’s a nice person. But Mary has been with Hef forever—she was the house manager at the Chicago Playboy Mansion and has worked for him for decades. It never ceased to amaze me that she would care so much to get Hef the girl that he wanted, that she tried so hard to make him happy and really cared about his sex life and how he was treated. She and Hef have a very special, interesting, peculiar relationship. In my opinion, it is she who runs the Mansion. And so she kept calling and inviting me to go out with Hef, but I always told her that it was my last semester in law school, and exams were around the corner, and I couldn’t go out right now, but I would when I was done. I guess I wanted to keep the option open.
By the end of December, I was done with all of my exams, and although my graduation ceremony was not until June, I was officially finished with law school. To start working as an attorney, I needed my license, and to get the license, I had to pass the Bar exam. Without even taking a minute to think about what I should do next, I signed up to take the Bar exam in February and borrowed $3,000 from my parents for a review class. I spent Christmas in Canada with my family, and when I returned, my friend Vivian and I attended the New Year’s Eve party at the Mansion. I received a warm welcome from Hef and spent the night partying with him and the girls. I had a great time. I noticed that some of the old Girlfriends were gone and that there were a few new girls “trying out”. As I sat there looking at them, I tried to envision being part of the group. Could I do this?
After the party, Hef called and invited me to come out with him and the girls now that I was done with school. Little did he know that this time of preparation for the Bar is much more intense than actually being in school; everyone who was studying for the Bar exam lived, breathed, and dreamed it. It requires your full attention and all of your time. You start with a few hours in class every morning, followed by an entire day of exercises and memorization. But I felt like I needed a break from the mental strain and loneliness (I can only study alone) of preparing for the exam. During the week I attended the review class, and on the weekends, I went out with Hef. I knew I was treading on dangerous ground, but I decided to give it a shot and see what happened. And what happened was that I had a blast! I became good friends with a couple of the girls who were also new to the scene, and that changed the dynamic for me.
Although we had nothing in common, Emma and I hit it off immediately. She is from England, a former Page Three girl (a woman who models topless for photographs published on page three of the U.K. tabloid
The Sun
). She had a pretty tough life; a high school dropout, she had a baby at seventeen and was struggling to make ends meet as an exotic dancer and model. She met a nice man who helped her out; he wanted to come to America, so they got married and he brought her and her son with him. When she first got to Los Angeles, she started doing B movies. When she met Hef, she was having a hard time paying rent. She had tested for
Playboy
magazine before, but despite being very photogenic, in my opinion, did not get approved. She was hoping to become a Girlfriend because of the money and work opportunities with Playboy it could bring her. Although our lives had been completely different, I liked Emma. I realized that, though I was not as bad as other people in law school, I was also a bit of an intellectual snob. I would not date anyone who was not as educated as I was, or befriend women who relied on their looks, or men, to get by in life. The feminist in me regarded that as pathetic. But life at the Mansion forcibly exposed me to a wide variety of characters, and I became more open-minded. Because of my friendship with Emma, I learned how to be less judgmental about people and the things they do in life to survive. I loved her sense of humor and upbeat personality. I like all accents in general but I have a particular liking for the Queen’s English. I loved the way she spoke; her swear words were particularly amusing. Before I knew it I was going around saying “bloody hell” and “bollocks” as if I had grown up saying it. No matter how bad my mood was, there were certain words she could always say to make me laugh such as the word guilty, which she pronounced “gui-ee,” or when she ordered “tos-ee-os” (Tostitos) and salsa. Emma and I had a lot of fun together; we would drink and dance at the clubs. We were also both in the same initial stages of our relationship with Hef, although she knew she wanted to move in and I still wasn’t sure about it. My friendship with her influenced my eventual decisions regarding moving in, living at the Mansion, and even moving out. Now I had a few friends who were entering this foreign world of Playboy with me; we shared our concerns, our fears, and our hopes. The experience was now beyond hanging out with Hef; it became about having fun with my friends. It was exactly that kind of thinking that led me to sabotage myself.
This new lifestyle was not compatible with studying for the Bar exam. I was sacrificing my studies, and I knew it. Hef was planning a trip to New York City at the end of January, and I was told that he wanted to invite me but was not going to because he didn’t want to interfere with my studies. I knew that the damage had been done already, and so I asked him if I could come on the trip. He agreed but was concerned about taking me away from my studies. We chartered a private jet and stayed at the Four Seasons Hotel in Manhattan. I shared a room with Roxy, with whom I bonded, but who drove me nuts waking up at 7 every morning. The trip to New York was amazing. We went to see
The Producers
, which was fantastic. We went out to the best nightclubs and hung out with musician Moby one night—he was so sweet and was fascinated by the fact that I had just finished law school. He wrote about me in his online journal, but I have not seen him since then. The best, and most rewarding, was going to a firehouse (Engine 3, Ladder 12, Battalion 7) and spending time with the New York Fire Department—just four months after Sept. 11. They made us lunch, which included a salad made in the biggest salad bowl I had ever seen, and we drank iced tea from mugs so big and heavy that we had to use both hands to lift them. They also showed us how to go down the fire pole; I held on for dear life, screeched all the way down, and plopped ungracefully, but I loved it. Some of the girls were great with the pole—previous work experience, I suppose. We took photos with the firemen and had a truly amazing time.