The Girls of Kokomo Indiana

in which we discover that small-town america loves playboy--and vice versa

The phone rang in David Chan's motel room. The caller identified himself as a member of the mayor's staff, Mayor Stephen J. Daily, that is, of Kokomo, Indiana. Here it comes, thought David. He had been in Kokomo only a few days, preparing a new pictorial with the theme: The Girls of Kokomo. He had barely had time to unpack. How could the forces of dissent have mobilized so quickly? Chan, a veteran of confrontations with fundamentalist Baptists at Baylor and militant feminists in the Ivy League, quickly scrambled through his luggage for his copy of 101 Retorts for Bluenoses. With the book open in front of him, he answered the caller, "Yes, this is David Chan."

"Mr. Chan," the caller purred, "the mayor would like to know if there's (text continued on page 222)Girls of Kokomo(continued from page 159) anything he can help you with."

There's been a mistake, thought Chan. They're confusing me with somebody else. He explained patiently that he was a photographer for Playboy in town for a little photo uncoverage of Kokomo's finest.

"Yes, we know," replied the caller. "And if there's anything we can do to make your job easier, please don't hesitate to give us a call."

David thanked him and hung up the phone, stunned. He walked to the window of his room and stared out at Highway 31 and the town beyond. Kokomo, he mused, is a very unusual place.

That was just the beginning. When Chan's phone stopped ringing, he had made photo dates with upwards of 150 Kokomo belles. There are about 50,000 people in the whole city, 90,000 if you count surrounding Howard County. David buzzed the Chicago office and reported that he had struck gold.

But why, you may ask, Kokomo? Why should the men's magazine of record, the magazine that brought you the women of Washington, the girls of the Southwest Conference, the women of the military, bring you the girls of Kokomo? Jeff Cohen, the Associate Photo Editor and impossible dreamer who makes these projects happen, explains: "Among other reasons, Ronald Reagan, during his campaign in Florida, said that Kokomo epitomized every small town in the country. That its problems--unemployment, inflation, its dependence on a few sources of income--were shared by many towns its size. My curiosity went beyond the bad news to the good things in Kokomo--which are typical, I suspect, of the good things in other small towns."

Actually, there are two Kokomos: the old and the new. The new Kokomo is, quite frankly, an abomination. It sprang up along Highway 31 in central Indiana as a conglomeration of shopping malls, motels and fast-food restaurants. Every one you can think of is there: Long John Silver's, McDonald's, Burger Chef, Burger King, Steak 'n Shake and Taco Bell. It gives the impression that everyone who isn't eating in a fast-food place is working in one.

The old Kokomo is much more pleasant. Quiet streets, old-time architecture, friendly people. When we were there in the fall, we saw children playing in piles of leaves in Rockwellian innocence. Old-timers chatted in barbershops. Cars were parked diagonally around the courthouse square. The calm was rare, the charm undeniable.

Somewhere between the old and the new is the future of Kokomo. Named for a Miami Indian chief, Ko Ko Mo, the town has had a rather surprising history. It was the home of the legendary Elwood Haynes. Haynes was an inventor. Stellite alloy and stainless steel were two of his best. But he is remembered most in Kokomo for being the maker of America's first commercially successful gasoline-powered automobile. That was in 1893. By 1923, production at the Haynes Automobile Company had hit a record 40 cars a day. You could have had one of your own for only $2500.

Nearly 60 years later, Kokomo is still in the same business. Unfortunately, business is none too good. The two largest employers in town are Delco Electronics, which makes, among other things, auto radios, and Chrysler Corporation, which, by the time you read this, may or may not be making anything.

Thus, the flagging economy has hit Kokomo harder than most places. Some of the slack has been taken up by an expanding Cabot Corporation and Penn-Dixie Steel Corporation, but no one denies that the times are, indeed, hard. People are deserting the center-city shopping area for the malls, and some of the youngest are leaving the city altogether to find work elsewhere.

The spirit of those who remain, however, has not diminished. They are boosters of the first order. The City of Firsts, as it is known--besides Haynes's inventions, Kokomo nurtured such breakthroughs as the first pneumatic rubber tire, the first carburetor and the first mechanical corn picker--is fighting back. An aggressive campaign for enticing new industry is under way, under the guidance of Mayor Daily. He's got a lot to work with. A picturesque setting, three colleges, nearly 300 acres of parks, five banks, a symphony orchestra, two hospitals, a legitimate theater and a whole raft of cultural and entertainment facilities.

A city's greatest resource, of course, is its people. We, naturally, were concerned mainly with the distaff population and, in that, Kokomo is second to none. We found enough beauty there to more than satisfy Playboy'S most critical reader. The girls of Kokomo range from pretty to dazzling. They are bright, charming and open in a way you just don't see in the big city.

In the end, it was a delightful foray into Middle America.

Take a walk through Highland Park, at the city's center, and you get a clue as to what makes Kokomo such a special place. There, preserved for the ages, is what is probably the world's largest sycamore stump; not 50 yards away is Old Ben, the world's largest steer, 6'4" at the forequarters, stuffed for eternity. The flora and fauna of Kokomo. A bighearted little city with a sense of pride, a sense of accomplishment, a sense of history and one hell of a good sense of humor.