Playboy interview: Don Johnson

If anyone can be said to embody the glitter of fame in the mid-Eighties, Don Johnson surely has a two-handed shot at it. Just three years ago, he was known as a veteran of Hollywood's frenzied party-and-drug world, having lived hand to mouth--and spoon to nose--for years as a struggling actor, not always staying this side of the law, seemingly headed for early burnout and minor TV oblivion. Last year, Johnson, now an international television star and sex symbol and the most potent fashion force since Fred Astaire, headed off to dinner at the White House, taped a commercial for Nancy Reagan's drug-abuse campaign, then returned to work on the fall season of "Miami Vice," that American byword for hip and cool that also happens to be a TV series.

In the beginning of the Common Era, the legend goes, there was a paper napkin sitting on a table in front of NBC Entertainment president Brandon Tartikoff--the only scrap of paper available when he had his celebrated brain storm and wrote down two words: MTV cops. The show it inspired changed the way TV shows looked, the way men dressed, the way they shaved--and, some say, threatened the survival of the socks industry. Just incidentally, it launched an Eighties mega-star. As Sonny Crockett, with his equally superdapper partner Ricardo Tubbs (Philip Michael Thomas), Johnson cruises the boulevards of Miami in incredibly pricey driving machines, wearing impossibly pricey threads, hunting down Colombian drug lords, romancing bad and good women, having existential meetings with his police boss, Lieutenant Castillo, all to the throb of Glenn Frey's latest record. Exaggerated, perhaps, but not by much.

Whether the show's ratings drop slowly or quickly, as all shows' must, "Vice" may have its greatest impact in showing us how completely the television medium--and the fast-cutting, fast-zapping habits of a video generation--can turn an ordinary potential ne'er-do-well into someone bigger than life. Johnson is clearly not just today's matinee idol: He has received respectful reviews for his acting outside of "Vice." His performance in "Cease Fire," a story about a Vietnam vet's struggles to readjust, was adjudged "consistently electric" by Newsweek, and critics called his acting in the lead of the TV-film version of "The Long Hot Summer" "complex and compelling." And for "Vice" itself, he has received an Emmy nomination. Nor can his good looks and reputation as a ladies' man alone account for the frenzy surrounding Johnson, whose fans are of all ages and both sexes. It may well be that, like certain other tarnished golden boys of Hollywood past, he gives off a raffish aura that some see as genuine and hard-lived, gritty as well as glitzy. There are plenty, of course, who see it as shallowness and arrogance.

Before the current blaze of publicity, Johnson was known in Hollywood as a party animal who would try anything more than once. One woman describes him as "always around." After she and a boyfriend, double-dated with him, she says, he invited himself and his date to her apartment. "His girlfriend, fell asleep on the couch," the woman remembers. "We hinted in every way that we wanted to go to bed. But as the sun rose, there we were in the living room, high on cocaine, talking and laughing hysterically. He left three days later."

During that period, in the mid-- and late Seventies, Johnson acted in forgettable movies and TV pilots and got caught up in the drug scene, finally admitting to himself that he had become addicted to alcohol and cocaine. He went into a drug-rehabilitation program, got serious about acting and got the right call at the right time, landing the role in "Miami Vice." When he became famous as the slick cop tracking down dopers, he was aware of the irony. "OK, it was me," he says. "I dressed that way. I knew and lived in those worlds--only on the other side of the law."

The show made him famous, and Johnson took it from there. He took part in Live Aid and Farm Aid concerts and appeared on the cover of virtually every magazine except, perhaps, Popular Mechanics. He made a commercial for Pepsi-Cola, for which he was paid an enormous sum. A longtime singer and sometime songwriter for the Allman Brothers Band, he then took the final logical step--and became a rock star. His album, "Heartbeat," was one of the most successful first releases by a new artist in the history of CBS Records. Many people assumed "Heartbeat" would be a novelty item, like the album produced earlier by his partner, Thomas, which quickly dropped out of sight. But some critics generally praised Johnson's album (ours didn't), and nearly all took it seriously.

All of which is extraordinary, considering that his background is typical of neither the average TV star nor the average rock-'n'-roll singer. A native of Galena, Missouri, Johnson, born Don Wayne in 1949, was a rebellious boy who landed in a detention school for car theft as a teenager. When his high school teacher threw him out of a business course, he hustled his way into a drama course simply because it was the only one still available. The teacher encouraged him, and he was on his way to a scholarship at the University of Kansas, followed by a stint at the American Conservatory Theater in San Francisco. But in the decade that followed, he landed only a couple of good jobs. One was a major role in 1969 with Sal Mineo in "Fortune and Men's Eyes," a controversial drama that won him a measure of acclaim. During that period, the restless Johnson married and divorced three times. (In 1982, he had a son, Jesse, with girlfriend Patti D'Arbanville.) It was during his third marriage--to actress Melanie Griffith--that he posed nude with his wife for a Playboy couples pictorial, which the magazine later ran, to his displeasure. Three years ago, he got the most important casting call of his career.

Now, with Johnson on the roll of his life, we decided the time was ripe to get his full story. Early this fall, we sent Contributing Editor David Sheff to--where else?--Miami, where Johnson, after a frantic summer preparing for the release of his album, had begun shooting far the new season of "Vice." Although he had discussed his past in earlier interviews, we felt that given the current climate of reaction against drug abuse--and its glamorization--the star of the show most identified with that topic might be willing to examine more closely what has happened in his life. Johnson apparently agreed: Although he has readily admitted to cocaine use in the past, this interview marks the first time he has discussed the lengths to which his addictions had taken him and the fact that he used even more dangerous drugs.

On that and many other topics, here is Sheff's report:

"Because of all the delays related to Johnson's ungodly shooting schedule, I had plenty of time to eyeball Miami. And Miami, I am here to tell you, is obsessed with Don Johnson. He is on the cover of every local paper and magazine. His name or image seems to be on the T-shirt of every Miami girl and on those of a lot of young men. My contact was 'Miami' Elliot Mintz, who is Johnson's media consultant; it was he who put me off with sincere apologies for the latest delay. Mintz also takes his job about as seriously as General Eisenhower did the invasion of Europe. At 6:15 one evening, after many days of waiting, I got a note from him saying, 'Hold your position. You will be contacted and then directed to Don.' I held my position.

"I finally met my subject at 1:30 in the morning, just about quitting time for the 'Vice'crew: A knock came at my hotel door and a man with a pleasant grin stuck out his hand and said,'Hi. Don Johnson. I'm beat.'

"Our sessions usually began with Johnson in a distracted mood, but he had committed to the interview and always came prepared to throw himself into our discussions--no small talk.It sometimes look us a little time to get rolling; but soon, animated by a remarkable reserve of energy, considering the 15-hour day of shooting he had just put in, he would be talking excitedly.

"Johnson sat across from me, wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with what are you looking at, Dickhead?--aimed at a particularly pesky photographer, he explained--speaking in fast bursts. He guzzled only Evian water, and he spoke with a candor that ranged from downright dangerous to outright playful. One very early morning as we talked on, he bounded into the kitchenette and returned with a bowl of salsa and a bag of tortilla chips. 'Onward,' he challenged. That particular tape is peppered with crackling sounds--the crunching of chips right, into the recorder's microphone. 'That's for your transcriber,' Johnson can be heard saying, crunching loudly. 'Here, baby, this one's for you.'

"Toward the end of my time in Miami, I accompanied Mintz one afternoon to the location where 'Vice' was shooting. I stood behind police lines with a large crowd of fans. There were girls ten deep, giggling and shrieking, keeping their eyes on the silver motor home with license plates that read DJ Ville. As to the suggestions these young girls were making among themselves about just which sexual position they'd like to be in with Johnson--well, I've turned my notes over to the Playboy Advisor.

"I saw the effect Johnson can have early on. One morning, when I said goodbye to him at the hotel elevator, the doors closed and I turned to see a girl standing behind us. She was trembling uncontrollably. I asked her if she was all right. She said, 'That was him. That was Don.' I nodded. She turned away, eyes glazed, and began hyperventilating. I asked him about that when we next got together."

[Q] Playboy: Can you imagine being a fan of someone's the way that girl is of yours?

[A] Johnson: Not really. The only time in my life I can ever remember being star-struck--and I've met everybody at this point, from Dylan to everybody--was when I walked into The Candy Store in Beverly Hills one night. I was probably 20; I always went into that joint, drinking and picking up women, and Dean Martin was lounging on a couch. I walked int there and literally stopped in my fucking tracks, like, "That's Dean Martin."

[Q] Playboy: Why Dean Martin?

[A] Johnson: I have no idea why it hit me like that. Pretty wacky.

[Q] Playboy: And now, to be on the receiving end of that kind of attention--

[A] Johnson: It's outrageous. I've had the craziest shit happen. I've had girls come up and just break down into sobbing. They're so fraught with emotion. I often take them and hold them until they calm down a little bit.

[Q] Playboy: This sexual image of yours--are you comfortable with it?

[A] Johnson: I laugh. It's a kick. But that's just what it is. If you take that shit seriously, you're in serious trouble.

[Q] Playboy: Isn't it impossible not to take it seriously some of the time?

[A] Johnson: Well, I know that it's not like I suddenly got attractive since Miami Vice. Where was all the attention before the show? I know where it comes from. I'm flattered that there is a contingent of people out there who find me sexually attractive. I'm not pooh-poohing it. I thank you and my banker thanks you. [Laughs]

[Q] Playboy: So your groupies--

[A] Johnson: God bless 'em. Where would us lonely boys be without 'em?

[Q] Playboy: Are you afraid of getting addicted to this kind of adulation?

[A] Johnson: God knows, I'm a candidate if anybody is. But while the attention is incredible, there is another side to it. I forget sometimes that I'm famous. We'll pull up at a grocery store or something and I'll start to jump out to go in and get whatever we need and whoever is with me will say, "Have you lost your fucking mind?" Oh, oh, yeah, right. "We'll be here for an hour if you go in there." Sometimes it bothers me; but then, on the other hand, you know, the alternative is unacceptable.

[Q] Playboy: What's the alternative?

[A] Johnson: Struggling, waiting for phone calls telling me I have work.

[Q] Playboy: But how do you keep things in perspective? How do you avoid becoming a monster with the kind of nonstop attention you've been getting?

[A] Johnson: Well, for one thing, I've been around so long, I've seen so many people fuck it up. That helps--just being aware of that. But I'm sure there have been occasions when I have abused the position. I feel, Fuck it, I don't have to be nice today. I'm the star. But I don't let myself get away with it too much. And people let you know. You're never too big for somebody to tell you you're an asshole.

[Q] Playboy: Besides girls' breaking down, what kinds of things happen?

[A] Johnson: I get a lot of provocative mail, a lot of offers from some of God's generous creatures out there. Most of them I ignore. Most of them. [Laughs]

[Q] Playboy: How are the lucky ones chosen?

[A] Johnson: First you send them to get a medical exam. [Laughs] Hell, if somebody tweaks your imagination, then, by God, you've got to go and take that step and find out why. You go on vibes. If somebody can intrigue your imagination in a letter, you know, then, by all means, a response is in order. A response is a courtesy, anyway. But a lot of the time. ... You know the old stories about being turned on over the phone? These women with great, sexy voices work for answering services and you invite them over to a party because you know that it'll be safe, since there will be lots of people around--and in walks this behemoth.

[Q] Playboy: You sound experienced.

[A] Johnson: Yeah, well, you know. The trick is, you never do it alone. You never make a commitment that you aren't prepared to fill. Like, don't be talking shit over the phone until you see the goods. Frankly, I don't have a lot of time for that kind of frivolity, but just out of sheer curiosity, you've got to go for it once in a while. It's dangerous.

[Q] Playboy: How?

[A] Johnson: You never know what will happen. But any kind of dating can be dangerous. Falling in love can be dangerous. It can fuck up lives and relationships. If you're already in a relationship with somebody and you fall in love with somebody else, it can be devastating. And if you're not in love with somebody else and you fall in love, then it can change your life--not always for the good. There's a quote from Socrates that I read once and that stuck in my mind: "If you get a good wife, you live happily ever after. If you get a bad one, you become a philosopher." [Laughs] I think that pretty much sums up my future. So, anything else you want to philosophize about?

[Q] Playboy: Sure. Do you have any philosophical theories about Miami Vice's success? Besides the clothes, of course.

[A] Johnson: The clothes thing is completely blown out of proportion. There are a couple valid aspects to it. What [executive producer] Michael Mann did by creating the color scheme of the show was make rules about the look and style, much like you make rules when you make a feature film. Television was not treated like that. That in itself brought a sense of quality to the show you didn't normally find on TV.

[Q] Playboy: Still, we don't imagine you have many fans in the socks industry.

[A] Johnson: Michael takes credit for the no-socks thing. But all those fashion things were not new things. I'd been wearing no socks and T-shirts and jackets for years. I couldn't afford the highest-priced ones, but I'd been doing it for years.

[Q] Playboy: While we're on this substantial stuff, how often do you shave?

[A] Johnson: I designed the character in the beginning to be so involved in his work that that stuff became secondary. He'd be up for days at a time running with some drug dealer and wouldn't necessarily stop to shave. So that's how the three-day stubble was born. The clothes were born out of the idea that drug dealers love flash: flashy cars, flashy rings, flashy jewelry, flashy clothes, flashy women. We were undercover cops after drug dealers, and in order to catch the big guys, we had to dress and look like them.

[Q] Playboy: So back to the question: Besides the flash and stubble, what is it about Vice that made it a hit?

[A] Johnson: Basically, we never did anything really different. We didn't redefine the cop drama, that's for sure. But the show was contemporary in a way that no other television show was. Cocaine was our basic story line, and it is also the story line in the headlines today. Rock 'n' roll was our backdrop, and it still is. With that as its basis, the show works because of the characters. You can dress them in any kind of clothes you want and you can play any number of rock-'n'-roll tunes, but if people don't get into the characters--Sonny Crockett, Ricardo Tubbs, Lieutenant Castillo, Switek, Zito, Trudy and Gina--then you can take all the $800 Versace jackets and all the Verri Uomo slacks and all the Ferraris and all the vibrating pastels and put them in a thimble, hand them back to Michael Mann and say, "I'm sorry, this is empty."

[Q] Playboy: How do you react to the criticisms of Vice, specifically that the quality has gone down since the first season?

[A] Johnson: I don't feel I have to apologize. At a certain point, there's only so much you can do. I don't think people realize what it's like to try to make 22 watchable episodes. Most shows are happy to get two or three exceptional episodes a year. The first season, we got eight or ten. And the rest of them were above average.

[Q] Playboy: Then what happened?

[A] Johnson: The second season, we still got six or seven exceptional shows. And then we had four or five clunkers. Last season, we didn't get one script that didn't have to be rewritten before we could shoot it. There was no time to prepare properly.

[Q] Playboy: In your position, can't you put your foot down and insist, for instance, that scripts come in on time?

[A] Johnson: Not when you're 3000 miles away. When you're in Hollywood, you can march into the office and scream and yell and rant and rave. Over the phone, they just hang up and say, "What an asshole. He's got a hit series and now he's just too big for his britches." But they don't take into consideration the fact that you are working 96 hours a week on this thing. I mean, there are only 120 hours in a five-day week, so that doesn't leave much time for anything--like sleep. You work 96 hours a week and the only saving grace is that you love what you're doing and you're proud of the result.

[Q] Playboy: And about $100,000 a week.

[A] Johnson:[Smiles] I'm not telling. But people talk about the big bucks as the reason for the hard work. Yeah, right: That's why you make the big bucks. But after a certain point, it doesn't mean shit, because you're so frustrated and your nerves are worn to such a frazzle and you can barely stand up. And it's hell on your social life, no matter what you've heard.

[Q] Playboy: You made a joke earlier about sending a date out for a medical exam. These are bad times for casual sex; as a guy with a lot of opportunities, what are you doing about the risk of disease?

[A] Johnson: Listen, I'm going to tell you something, pal. I was only partly joking. There's some shit going around out there that you can't get rid of any longer with a shot. They got to shoot you if you get it. With AIDS, sex these days can be lethal. Does that mean there's too much promiscuity? If you believe that the planet has a series of checks and balances, as we've been led to believe, and, as history has told us time and time again, that for every action there's a reaction, and so on, then apparently there's too much promiscuity.

[Q] Playboy: Coming from you, that's something.

[A] Johnson: I'm not saying there is--not for me. But a thoughtful person has to consider it.

[Q] Playboy: You're a single man; how does the threat of disease affect your life?

[A] Johnson: Let me put it this way. You give it thought.

[Q] Playboy: Do you ask a girl you're interested in if she could be a carrier?

[A] Johnson: If there is a question, that's it. The answer's got to be no.

[Q] Playboy: Isn't that naïve? Isn't there always a question?

[A] Johnson: You're right. There are always calculated risks that you're willing to take with the right partner. And there are precautions you can take, like rubbers--condoms, if you will. Ah, I'm from the era when you called them rubbers, buddy. Yeah, I know it's like taking a bath with your socks on, but it's better than dying.

I'm not making light of it. It's something that is very difficult to assimilate. Part of the problem is the confusing information we get. For a while it was, Jesus, you can get this off toilet seats, for God's sake. I mean, they don't know. How do you get it? Well, you may get it from needles. And you may get it from transfusions. You get it from butt fucking. No, no, wait a minute. It's a transmission of fluids. What fluids? Saliva? Come? What is it? Doctors look at you and go, "We just don't know." Can I get a test to see if I'm immune or if I've got the virus or if I'm a carrier? Well, you can, but it's not really accurate. Is the incubation period four years? Eight years? I saw a report that showed numerous cases of AIDS in heterosexual females who may have gotten it from men who had experimental adolescent homosexual relationships. That means, Jesus, anybody and everybody is susceptible. Not that I've fooled around in that area, but there are statistics showing that some enormous number, like 85 or 90 percent of the men on the planet, have had some form of homosexual experience in their adolescence, even those who went on to become heterosexual. That percentage went on to have heterosexual relationships with, say, 50 women, who went on to have relationships with any number of other people. ... It doesn't stop. Let's face it: The sheer concept of the numbers that it could affect is devastating. [For a more scientific view of AIDS statistics, see this month's Forum Newsfront.]

[Q] Playboy: So how has all this changed your behavior?

[A] Johnson: I've gotten into fucking sheep. [Laughs] Sorry, I couldn't help myself. No, man, you use your best judgment. You don't hear a lot of stories anymore about, 'Jesus, I just got head from this girl; I don't even know her name." Not only do you know her name, you know her parents, where she's from, what she does for a living, where she hangs out. That gives you an idea of what you can expect. Does she hang out at clubs? I don't care what anybody says, a girl who hangs out at clubs. ... This is going to cause trouble, but today you've got to think this way. I didn't make the rules, I'm just living by them. A girl who's hanging out at clubs is exposed to casual sex. I'm not saying that she's promiscuous; she only has to do it once with the guy who's been doing it a lot. Right? And then you are into the ball game. You are a recruit, whether you like it or not.

[Q] Playboy: So casual sex is out for now?

[A] Johnson: If you have half a brain. One of the things that I'm very pleased about is that I'm doing Miami Vice in south Florida and not back in Sin City--L.A.-- because the temptation is even greater back there. [Laughs] So until we figure something out, precautions should be taken, and I think people have to communicate with each other. But who knows? Out of this they may come up with some brilliant new drug that will cure not only this but cancer. Because I'm going to tell you something: We are motivated. Now that it's not just a gay disease, there is serious motivation. The Government might let them go, because they're fairly cold-hearted about that. But now that heterosexuals are getting it, you can bet there'll be something done about it.

Then again, we may get real inventive sexually. Find a new deal, right? I'm a candidate, I'm a player. But the over-all point about all the attention to sex is misleading. Right now, I just don't have time for much of anything other than work.

[Q] Playboy: With your schedule, how do you meet women?

[A] Johnson: How do you meet women, anyway? You see them. You see a pretty woman and you say, "Damn, she's interesting-looking." And you go over and introduce yourself. Some people think that Don Johnson can have any woman that he wants, but first of all, he's got to surpass a whole bunch of hurdles, because all of those women think the same thing, and that's the first hurdle that you've got to get over. The truth of the matter is that most of the women who feel that way are so inaccurate about it that we usually don't get past that initial hurdle. When we do, it's often, "Hey, you're a pretty nice guy."

[Q] Playboy: Surprise!

[A] Johnson: Yeah, surprise. "Well, what the fuck did you think--I eat babies for breakfast?" The truth is, I can't get out and meet nice ladies. I'm very selective and usually spend most of my time alone, because I don't have someone that I really care about right now.

[Q] Playboy: Is that true? You spend most of your time alone?

[A] Johnson: Yeah, I do. I work. I work, and then when I go home at night, I sit there and sometimes wonder, What am I doing? But I know it's a temporary thing. I know that I won't always have to work this hard and that eventually I'll run into somebody and she's going to be it. It's going to all happen for us, you know.

[Q] Playboy: So you're looking for that?

[A] Johnson: The thing I really miss is being able to share all this wonderful stuff with somebody. It's a thrill, but when you can't share it with somebody, it's very empty.

[Q] Playboy: After three marriages, do you still really want that kind of relationship?

[A] Johnson: Absolutely.

[Q] Playboy: Didn't you once say you weren't capable of monogamy?

[A] Johnson: I probably 'did say that and I probably meant it at the time. But I'd like to believe that I am, and I am damn sure going to give it a shot one of these days. I have hopes that we're headed for a new era in relationships--more traditional relationships. I don't know. I am anxiously awaiting my next opportunity to find out whether it's monogamy or [laughs] an open marriage or whatever.

[Q] Playboy: In the meantime?

[A] Johnson: In the meantime, God bless those sensitive, caring creatures who bestow upon me their favors on occasion.

[Q] Playboy: This is pretty interesting; approximately 100,000,000 guys envy the spot you're in right now--with the ladies and the fame--yet you say you spend most of your time alone.

[A] Johnson: Everything is usually the antithesis of what it seems. Even that is more complicated than everyone thinks. Girls who normally would come right off of it at a bar run into me and see diamond rings and fancy cars and don't want to give anything away. They think, If I go to bed with him on the first date, he's going to think I'm cheap. I'll make him work for it. I'm making a joke about it, but it's true. When you've got one business, you've got to do it right. Groupies usually haven't evolved enough at that point in their lives to see the bigger picture, so they're in for the short-term gain.

It's not simple. For every problem that's eradicated because I have fame, money, whatever, I get three more that are more complicated. The biggest point is that I'm not into getting laid. Just getting laid is probably one of the most empty things that you can do at 36. You get laid at 22. I did it until I was 32. If there isn't some value in it somewhere, some poetry in it somewhere, then fuck it. I'd rather go home alone or go home and talk to my little boy on the telephone or, when he's with me, go home and wrestle with him or take a ride in my boat or read a good book, which I haven't had a chance to do since I started the show.

[Q] Playboy: And you also must take into account the question of whether someone is interested in you or in Sonny Crockett.

[A] Johnson: You make arrangements for both of those occasions [laughs]. I mean, I can get behind somebody wanting to fuck the star, you know. But it's more meaningful to be into the person. But I've never been opposed to a little kink here and there [laughs]--depending upon my mood.

[Q] Playboy: Are you suspicious of the motives of most people you meet?

[A] Johnson: I'm a pretty good judge of people. I can usually tell when somebody is a sycophant, when somebody is just plain full of shit. But I've been fooled, like everybody else. So, no, it's not easy to meet people. And, as I said, when I meet them, they have all kinds of expectations about how terrible I am.

[Q] Playboy: What is that based on?

[A] Johnson: You can be the most magnanimous, loving and giving person in the world, but fail to sign one autograph at the wrong time and you are the meanest, most arrogant, self-centered asshole who ever walked the face of the earth. I think that I'm sometimes perceived that way. But 95 percent of the shit that's written about me is untrue, anyway.

[Q] Playboy: Do you have a sense of your overall image in the press?

[A] Johnson: I think a serious misconception is that I am mean or unapproachable.

[Q] Playboy: Yet it comes from somewhere.

[A] Johnson: It comes from having so much pressure on me.

[Q] Playboy: Pressure as an excuse for what?

[A] Johnson: Time becomes an enemy. All of a sudden, all the amenities go out the window. It's no longer "Gee, could you please hand me that prop over there?" It's "Get me that fucking prop now, goddamn it." The demands put on you are outrageous. You require concentration and focus to keep abreast of it. Miami Vice got so big so quick. There were so many adjustments to make in my life that it was all I could do at the time to stay on top of it and still maintain who I am. Each moment was, I've got this interview to do later; a photographer is coming on the set to take pictures for that publication; Entertainment Tonight is going to be here at four o'clock. This week's script isn't right. I've just read next week's script and it has problems; got to get hold of the writers to talk about fixing it. They've sent me the cut of the show we finished last week, and for three of the scenes, they're using the wrong cuts, and I've got to see if they can change them. So that, coupled with all of the publicity and stardom pressure--people demanding your attention every second--means you have to focus and concentrate on what you're doing. Otherwise, it will get away from you.

[Q] Playboy: We touched on whether or not you become a monster in this kind of spotlight. We've heard stories about all this going to your head.

[A] Johnson: Yeah, I've seen power at work in myself. You have to discipline yourself. At least, I don't believe that I'm arbitrary. That's a difference. What may come off like arrogance--"He's the star of the show" shit--is simply a deep-rooted and sincere desire to make it better and to make it new and fresh and different each time, to not settle for "Well, it's OK, it's TV." So I try to temper myself not to be impulsive. Also, I know what to look for: I have seen people, drunk with power, make decisions solely because they have the power to do it, even though the decisions will ultimately cause them pain and grief. That's abuse.

[Q] Playboy: Wasn't it abusive when you shut down the set of Miami Vice this year over a renegotiation of your contract?

[A] Johnson: I was advised by my legal counsel on that, but it was after we had made attempts to deal with this before the show went into production. It was clear that for my position on the show, for the contribution that I make, I was grossly underpaid. My representatives opened this up to Universal and NBC, which both knew that I was grossly underpaid in comparison with everyone else of my stature in television. They were apprised of the fact that an adjustment was needed, and they chose to ignore it. If they were trying to make an example of me, it didn't work. Meanwhile, our side conducted business like gentlemen while the other side went to the press. There were statements made by people who will remain nameless, like, "He shouldn't do this to us now. We're very powerful; we're on top."

[Q] Playboy: What was your reaction?

[A] Johnson: I didn't say anything at the time, because I felt that these were business matters and they should be handled like business and not in the press.

[Q] Playboy: Then what's your reaction now?

[A] Johnson: Here's my reaction: How the fuck do they think they got on top? Who do they think was partially responsible--part of the team--that got them on top? Hey, man, I understand the game. It's just business. Nothing personal, gentlemen, right? I didn't get everything I wanted, but I did OK. And you know what? I'm still in the game to play another day. And they are, too. So I thought it was time to say it. I haven't spoken about it before. Because it wasn't just money. By their greed, they push you into an adversarial relationship in the creative aspect of the game as well. And the product suffers. Instead of focusing on the work at hand, you're focusing on impossible schedules. If a bad script comes in, we don't have time to scrap it, because the boys at Universal are tapping their feet and looking at their watches. It's no new argument; there's always the battle between talent and money.

[Q] Playboy: The boys at CBS Records are tapping their feet right about now over your first record. Why isn't it enough to be a TV star? Why do you want to become a rock-'n'-roll star?

[A] Johnson: [Grins] Because I can. It's such an inept answer to say, "I've been singing all my life." It seems sort of like I'm trying to convince somebody. But, in truth, it's just that I've always wanted to make a record, I've been singing all my life and, finally, I can. Somebody gave me the opportunity to do it the way I always wanted to do it. I have this persona as an actor and as a person of being this sort of street-smart tough guy. Tough guys don't sing or dance, do they? So here was a chance to say, "Fuck this."

[Q] Playboy: Because of your Miami Vice success, you had a lot of fans who went out and bought the record no matter what, but there were a lot of people out there saying, "Prove it to me."

[A] Johnson: I felt the latter more. This country has a preoccupation with building people up and tearing them down. We do it very well, better than anybody, I think. It's probably just a debauched way of passing the time. That, plus the fact that there is an incredible machine out there that has to be fed, the media machine. That's what the fuck we're doing right here, right now, feeding the machine. And it's insatiable.

[Q] Playboy: And just now, you're the main course.

[A] Johnson: Yeah. So I knew there were a lot of people who'd love to watch me fall on my face. But that same pressure was another reason I wanted to do it. Also, there's a long legacy of people we chewed up and spit out in the television market, or any market, from Fabian to Tab Hunter to Starsky and Hutch. Crockett and Tubbs are the latest, so the battle is to extricate yourself from that milieu, to say, "Hey, beyond all of this hype, there's really an artist in here."

[Q] Playboy: So the record is a way to avoid being Starsky or Hutch?

[A] Johnson: Yes. That image has left an indelible mark on the frontal lobe of millions of people. I've always been afraid of that. The record is one way out of that trap. From the beginning, I felt it was important to try to stay separate from the show, separate from the character. It's occupational suicide if you don't do it. And there was resistance to it. In the beginning, there was a lot of pressure put on both Philip [Michael Thomas] and me to be one--to show up in the same limousine at openings, to be in the same interviews, the same photo sessions. Certain factions involved in the production tried to convince us that if we left the fold, it would be detrimental to the show. It's no secret: If you keep actors together and don't give them an identity, then they're a little easier to control, aren't they? It didn't take me long to realize that this was a fatal error. I took Philip aside and said, "Let me tell you something, pal: For better or for worse, we've got to resist this. Because there is life after Miami Vice--and if there isn't, then, by God, let us fall on our own. Let's not have to depend on each other's misfortunes or fortunes to exist." We made a pact on the spot. We said, "OK, man, when we walk into a room, you pick one corner and I'll pick the other." And that's the way we did it. Philip understood it from the beginning.

[Q] Playboy: That helped you, but Thomas hasn't fared as well apart from Vice.

[A] Johnson: It's no secret that he's had a harder time than I've had, particularly in the press, but he takes a rather philosophical view toward it. He has always maintained that what's good for me is good for him and vice versa. I know that's rather contradictory to the pact. But what's good for either of us has to be good for the show, which is good for both of us, since the show is our foundation. The point is not to fall victim to it and not to be trapped by it. That's the key.

[Q] Playboy: Why do you think Thomas has had a harder time than you?

[A] Johnson: It's just a matter of having an instinct of how to deal with the press. Philip is the sweetest, kindest, most giving person you'd ever want to meet.

[Q] Playboy: That's not the image he has. He has sounded like an extreme egotist.

[A] Johnson: I know what Philip is really like. The image in the press is just that--image. It's not him. We're brothers, we work together all the time, and I love him and stand by him.

[Q] Playboy: Why have you done commercials for Pepsi-Cola?

[A] Johnson: I kept saying no and they kept throwing more money at me.

[Q] Playboy: A million dollars is the figure that has been bandied about.

[A] Johnson: I don't want to get into what the figure was. When it got to a certain level, though, it was impossible to turn down. Plus, I wanted to see if I could make a minimovie out of a commercial. I think we pulled off an artistic achievement, had fun and made some money, too. And, by the way, I reject this fucking notion that you can't make money in this business. I mean, shit, I starved for 15 years to get to this position. It's one of the rewards of working 16 and 18 hours a day and not being with your family. And it wasn't a commercial for 5 Day deodorant pads or panty shields or anything.

[Q] Playboy: Whatever the figures--from Pepsi, Vice, the record--you're making a huge amount of money. How has it affected you?

[A] Johnson: I know for a fact I have been poor, I've been rich and I've been in between, and I've been lonely in all those places. It's lonely at the top, but it's also lonely at the bottom and in the middle. I don't think that money makes it any easier to deal with everyday life. As I've said, money eradicates some problems but causes others. The biggest changes in my life don't have to do with the money but with the fact that I'm dealing with life straight on, sober.

[Q] Playboy: You've discussed your alcohol and drug abuse in the past, but given the current climate, let's delve a little more deeply into it. How bad did it get?

[A] Johnson: I know that when I was drinking and using, I built my day around it. "I'll meet you for drinks." "Let's go there; they make a great bloody mary." "You want to come over on Saturday for mimosas?" You know what I mean? People do it and don't really think about it, and before you know it, you're into the alcohol syndrome. Same with drugs. "Let's get together and get loaded." So, anyway: Nobody got higher than I did for longer than I did. I look back now and say, "What the fuck was I doing?"--waking up in a joint with a bunch of people lying around with needles in their arms. First you want to know how you got there--then why the fuck you're still there.

[Q] Playboy: And the answer?

[A] Johnson: When you're miserable, or when you're addicted, there's this weird psychology. You seek lower social forms. For some odd reason, you only feel comfortable around people who are also not in their right minds, who are hell-bent on hurting themselves.

[Q] Playboy: How far did you go? Did you use needles?

[A] Johnson: No, I never got into needles. I tried heroin, but that was experimental. That shit scared me. But what I did was almost worse than for the person who's using the needle. That person has made up his mind that that's what he's going to do: "I'm going to be fucked up." This is an important point; I know lots of people who shared this delusion. I was fucked up but said it was OK because I wasn't using needles. I used to try to sell myself on that rationale, and so do a lot of people out there. "I don't shoot up, so I'm fine." Fuck, no. I was not fine. In my heyday, it wasn't anything for me to knock off a case and a half of beer a day, a bottle of vodka, three or four good, healthy snifters of cognac, a couple of bottles of good wine and a couple of grams of coke. A day! And that's not to mention the eight or ten odd joints about the size of your pointer finger I'd fire up a day.

[Q] Playboy: As soon as you woke up?

[A] Johnson: After a particularly rough night, in the tradition of a little hair of the dog that bit you, I would reach into the refrigerator and grab a beer. I would take the first one and turn it up and guzzle it. There would be this burning, effervescent feeling in your throat. You're waking up with a mouth drier than the Mojave Desert. So there was that feeling in your throat; your eyes would water and you'd immediately get a rush and be just as high as you were when you went to bed. Then you'd take a second one out, drink half of that and sit down and light a cigarette and enjoy the other half. Of course, about half an hour later, after that initial buzz wore off, you still felt like shit. Like you'd been run over by a truck. And that's when you fire up a reefer. Then, if you had any left, maybe the teensiest, tiniest little line, just to sort of take the dull edge off all of that other stuff. And then you were ready to face the day.

[Q] Playboy: To do what?

[A] Johnson: To corral the right combination of people and replenish the supply of drugs and booze.

[Q] Playboy: And you're here to tell about it. Why?

[A] Johnson: By the grace of God, really. Because I rolled several cars, got in several fights, got shot at a few times. Man, there were nights. ...

[Q] Playboy: There's a little nostalgia in your voice. Although everyone talks about the psychological reasons for addiction, do you think you also did drugs because they were fun, at least at first?

[A] Johnson: I don't think so. I think that it's what we've learned to accept as fun. It's not really fun. It's relatively sophomoric and idiotic when you are clear enough to think about it. It's a little like saying, "Let's go up to the third or fourth floor of this hotel and jump put of the window. We probably won't die from it. We'll probably just get banged up a little bit, and no way can you get addicted, you know. I mean, you'll have a little headache tomorrow, but that's no big deal." You know what I mean? That's what we have--it's just as crazy as that. We have been taught to accept the sickest shit. "Man, I was out last night and got so blind that I didn't know what the hell I was doing or where I was." People used to say that proudly. Or, "You should have seen him--he was so fucked up it was hysterical." No, that ain't it, man. It was, in fact, "You should have seen him. The poor motherfucker needed help." That shit ain't fun. It's dangerous. And it's humiliating. And painful.

[Q] Playboy: Where do you think that feeling came from?

[A] Johnson: Our generation, more than any other, believed that there was something hip or romantic about being wasted. We were sold a bill of goods. It was one of the things we mistook for freedom, so many things that we were pushing the envelope for, whether sexual freedom or anything else. It became part of the rebellion against the conventional way of life. Now we've come full circle, and it's a shock.

[Q] Playboy: So you're cynical about your generation?

[A] Johnson: Well, in a lot of ways, we did change the world. I'm not cynical about that. There was a social revolution. We had and continue to have an impact on the environment, inequalities in jobs, racism, sexism, international awareness about human rights and nuclear disarmament--things like that. We really are having an impact. For that, I am very proud to be a part of this generation. ...

[Q] Playboy: But?

[A] Johnson: But for this stuff to happen, we threw out everything. We had to. In the beginning, there had to be this cataclysmic sort of upheaval in order for there to be any change. We had to throw off all the rules--"Don't do this, don't do that." We said one huge "Fuck you." And, man, I had a ball! I had fun smoking pot. I had fun doing acid, too. But I did get addicted. Remember they said pot leads to other things? I thought that was bullshit. For me, it wasn't bullshit. I did get addicted. And I wasn't alone. I'm just one of the most publicized. I tried everything--including the Big H.

[Q] Playboy: What was your experience with heroin like?

[A] Johnson: I did it a few times and what struck me right away was, "Why in the fuck would you want to do this shit?" Because right away, I wanted to throw up. And then, all of a sudden, you get this warm, sort of pleasant feeling all over. Kind of "Hey, yeah. That's cool." No. That is not cool. It is a road to dying.

[Q] Playboy: How do you think you managed to avoid getting hooked on heroin?

[A] Johnson: Because that's the big lie I was talking about. I want to make a point of it, because it is a big lie that continues. The lie is, "It's OK to do coke because you can't really get addicted to coke. But heroin. ..." We all know what happens with that. You end up going out and robbing a store to support your habit. We justified everything, being addicted to pot, cocaine and alcohol, and said we were OK because we weren't addicted to heroin. "Cocaine's cool, man." Cocaine was the elite drug. We know that's bullshit now.

[Q] Playboy: How do you feel, then, about all the reports of increased drug use?

[A] Johnson: The increase is with everybody who didn't do it before. Remember when you were in school, there was always the fast crowd? Well, I was always part of that fast crowd. So the fast crowd did whatever it was first, and then it hit the masses. School is just a microcosm of society. There's the crowd that's supposedly in the know, and then there are the masses and then there are the nerds, you know. The happening crowd starts it and the masses pick it up and the nerds bring up the rear--God bless 'em, we need 'em all. But that's kind of the way it is in society, too. It's an epidemic now because all the people who were cool made it look so glamorous. It has hit the masses, and soon they, too, will see that it is nowhere. The attractive thing will be to be straight.

[Q] Playboy: Do you think some drugs are OK in moderation?

[A] Johnson: I can't. Maybe I will be able to someday. ... No, that's the disease talking. I have this thing that I do with my buddy Dickey Betts, who is clean, too. We say, "One of these days, I'm gonna throw a party and I'm going to get the biggest pile of cocaine and the biggest pile of pot, a big bottle of Jack Daniel's, a whole tub full of beer, every pill you can think of! Yes, sir. Someday, I'm gonna have me a party--but not today." [Laughs]

[Q] Playboy: You do sound nostalgic.

[A] Johnson: Listen, people talk about wars that way, too. We're strange creatures in that way. We focus on the tragic things. That's why we like movies that deal with stuff like that, because those things affect us the most profoundly. You go back over your life and you don't necessarily think about the sweet, nice women. You remember the ones who took your heart and drop-kicked it. And you have to remember some of it and laugh. But thank God I'm still around to laugh.

[Q] Playboy: Speaking of war stories, what was one of the strangest places in which you found yourself while on drugs?

[A] Johnson: One time I woke up in Hawaii.

[Q] Playboy: What's strange about that?

[A] Johnson: I started in California. I went out for a pack of cigarettes and I woke up in Hawaii. I was living with this woman at the time. I ran into this old buddy of mine, and he had a pocket full of cash and a bunch of dope and stuff and we started partying and stayed out all night, and the next morning, he had a flight to Hawaii. You know how you get started talking, and he said, "Come on, man, go with me." I said, "I haven't got any clothes!" "You don't need no clothes in Hawaii. Come on, we're going to Hawaii! Just cut the legs off your jeans." I said, "Right on, let's go." We went to the airport and got on a plane and ended up in Hawaii and just kept partying for three weeks. Listen, man, I knew how to have a good time. I don't remember a lot of it. I remember I never called the girl to tell her what had happened.

[Q] Playboy: She must have given you a warm reception when you finally came back.

[A] Johnson: Oh, yes. She came to the door and said, "Where did you have to go for those cigarettes?"

[Q] Playboy: At least she had a sense of humor.

[A] Johnson: If they were going to run with me, they'd better have a sense of humor. But you look back on some of that stuff and what was funny then is kind of sad and pathetic now. I look back and wonder how I survived it.

[Q] Playboy: Most of this drug period was when you lived in L.A. How could you afford the lifestyle? Cocaine isn't cheap--at least it wasn't.

[A] Johnson: I never had a problem, because people who have money like to buy cocaine and share it with people who are fun to be with, and apparently I was a lot of fun to be with. Twenty or so years ago, when I came to L.A. from San Francisco, I started out to become an actor or a singer or whatever, no matter what. And for most of that time, it was no matter what. It was the underside of what is happening now. A lot of years, I was under the national poverty level in income. Some years I did well, but mostly I just lived by my wits and by whoever happened to be buying dinner that night. During that period, you could live like a king in L.A. on the same income--below the national poverty level--that anywhere else would get you slam-dunked through the goal post of life.

[Q] Playboy: Yes, but most people in L.A. below the national poverty level don't live like kings. What are you saying?

[A] Johnson: I don't know. I did. There are some people who can think on their feet. At the risk of sounding immodest, I guess I was just one of those people who could tell a funny story at the appropriate moment or be a good listener at another appropriate moment. That's generally what it amounted to. I was fairly enterprising and I knew how to get by in one way or another. There was always the reliable unemployment if you worked enough days within a quarter to qualify, but there were a lot of times I didn't qualify. But you make money here and there. I probably put a house and a couple of Mercedes up my nose, but I made money somehow.

[Q] Playboy: Did you make money acting?

[A] Johnson: Yeah, acting or one street scam or another. A T-shirt deal or just being able to hook people up. A guy was looking for a piece of art and I found it. It's keeping your eyes open. It's not that difficult to make money. And if you were in that circle, coke was always around.

[Q] Playboy: What circle?

[A] Johnson: I don't kiss and tell. Hollywood. It was everywhere. There was a time when it was not uncommon for you to meet some very prominent people in the business for lunch and then after lunch have them say, "Here, you want to take a little walk to the bathroom?" I mean, it was just like, "You want to go powder your nose?" And I do mean powder your nose. It was like dessert.

[Q] Playboy: Was it hard to live in L.A. after you cleaned up?

[A] Johnson: It's the funniest thing. People who, when I was getting high, wouldn't give me the time of day couldn't wait to try to give me some blow when it got around that I was straight. It's really sick. People don't want you climbing out of a hole and mirroring how desperate and sick it really is. Sick? After some time, I would do some and say, "Why am I doing this? I just get anxious, paranoid, schizophrenic, psychotic and neurotic." You know that joke of George Carlin's: You do a hit of cocaine and it'll make you feel like a new man. Only the new man wants another hit.

[Q] Playboy: OK. So how did you stop?

[A] Johnson: My girlfriend Patti was already going to a drug-rehabilitation program, and I went with her. When I quit, I quit everything immediately, all at once. I don't want to do another fucking confessional about drugs, but I feel strongly about it. It's no easy feat getting sober. Anybody who can do it is a hell of a human being, and I say that in all modesty, because it is not easy. When you can manage to do it, you can do it only with the help of a lot of people and support groups and, most of all, a power outside of yourself, be it God or another kind of spiritual liaison, whatever you call it. It is the same force that allows us to feel love and the same force that allows us to feel at all. I tapped into that source and humbled myself and communicated in a way to help me rid myself of the obsession with alcohol and drugs. And it worked. Whatever it was or is, it worked, and it still works.

[Q] Playboy: What's the best part about being off drugs?

[A] Johnson: You can't do anything when you're fucked up. You can bullshit yourself and think you're going real fast and making a lot of headway. But, basically, you're spinning your wheels and not remembering it. I got so bored with it that almost anything would have taken its place. If I listen to one more coke rap until the wee hours of the morning and watch the sun come up with eyes that feel that they have third-degree burns on them, I will die. That's one of the strongest images I have: sitting around facing a bunch of people you have just told the most intimate secrets of your life and probably will never see again.

If that startling realization won't keep you sober, then, brother, you need to be fucked up. Boom. Done. There. Now I really hope that for purposes of interviews I don't have to talk about all this drug stuff ever again.

[Q] Playboy: Have you examined the source of your tendencies? You have said you were incorrigible and rebellious as a child. Is it all connected?

[A] Johnson: I don't know. I was afraid of growing up. I ran away from it in every way I could. I was afraid of not making it, so I made sure I didn't have a chance. Who knows where it is rooted? When I was this rebellious kid, I was probably pissed off because my parents had gotten divorced. I'm not a psychologist, but I would imagine that's what it was.

[Q] Playboy: What kind of family did you come from?

[A] Johnson: We were poor, not poverty-stricken but certainly hard-working, lower-middle-class farmers. Both of my grandfathers had about 80 acres apiece. One grandfather was a farmer and a minister, which is not uncommon where I'm from. That whole time in my life provided a great foundation. I was on a farm until I was about four or five, and then we moved away to Wichita, Kansas. My father got work at an airplane factory. He's a master mechanic, a master carpenter.

[Q] Playboy: When did your parents divorce?

[A] Johnson: I was 11. That's a difficult time in anyone's life. I stayed with my mother for a while and I was declared incorrigible by the courts for things like skipping school and shoplifting and hanging out with the wrong crowd. Then I was sent to live with my father. He was strict, and by then I had been threatened by being sent to a boys' home. That was not my idea of a good time. I did a little stint for stealing a car while the authorities were making up their minds what they were going to do with me, whether they were going to let me go live with my father or whether I was going to stay in the detention center or what. That was enough time for me to realize that I did not want to be incarcerated in any fashion.

[Q] Playboy: When did you leave home?

[A] Johnson: I was 16. I finished putting myself through high school by working in a meat shop. I was in a business-administration class and I kept falling asleep and the teacher threw me out. The only class left open was a drama class. I went down and asked the teacher if I could get in. She asked, "Can you sing?" I said, "Yeah, I can sing." She asked, "Can you dance?" I said, "Well, all right." She asked, "Can you act?" I said, "Sure. Sure, why not?" I was just bullshitting my way into it, but she told me to go to an auditorium where they were auditioning for West Side Story. The next day, it was posted that I was the lead. And I got into her class. She took an interest in me and convinced me that I really had a talent for this. And she started throwing books in my direction--Tennessee Williams, Faulkner, Edward Albee, Ionesco. She taught me how to read Shakespeare, and I'd read it and still wouldn't understand it, but somehow I'd plow through it. I said, "This is it. This is what I want to do." She was responsible for getting me a scholarship to the University of Kansas to study drama.

[Q] Playboy: Where you became the scandal of the school by moving in with your drama teacher.

[A] Johnson: We had this wonderful, wonderful, lovely relationship. After I'd been at college a year and a half, Ed Hastings from the American Conservatory Theater in San Francisco came down to direct an opera by Stravinsky. Both this woman and I auditioned for him and were hired to join A.C.T. I worked in the mail room at A.C.T. when Your Own Thing came to town, and I copped an understudy role.

[Q] Playboy: This was the late Sixties. Were you concerned with the draft?

[A] Johnson: I was up the year that the lottery was adopted. My number came up 345. I went, "Whew"--you know, 344 19-year-olds had to go before me. You dig? By the time my number came up, they had abolished the lottery.

[Q] Playboy: Were you involved in antiwar demonstrations?

[A] Johnson: I was so self-involved and naïve at that time that I participated in some things on a purely social level. If there was someone I was seeing who happened to be extraordinarily attractive and she was on her way to a rally, I would join her. It was a social thing. San Francisco. The Fillmore West. I remember I was 17 or 18 and there was this girl I'd been wanting to, like, get down with--this flower child, you know. I was a dork from the Midwest at the time. I might have smoked a little pot back in Kansas, but drugs? Whoo, bad stuff, man. So this girl said, "Hey, Don, I got some acid." This was when people were supposedly jumping out of windows. That's what you heard. And she asked if I wanted to drop with her. And I went, "Oh, fuck, man, I want to be with this girl. I don't give a fuck if I do jump out a window." I said, "Sure, man." It didn't take long for us to lose the person who was with us. We went traipsing around the Tenderloin and downtown, riding the trolleys to Fisherman's Wharf and the Embarcadero, seeing San Francisco completely peaked out. We ended up going by the Masonic temple at daybreak with the sun coming up and then back at her place making love.

[Q] Playboy: Right. This was the sexual revolution, too.

[A] Johnson: Shit, yes. I was on the front line. I was the bugler. Talk about AIDS; well, in those days, yeah, sure, you might pick up the crabs or you might even get a dose. But [claps hands] it was a three-day deal. Anyway, where were we?

[Q] Playboy: What came next in your career?

[A] Johnson: I went to los Angeles for Fortune and Men's Eyes, which Sal Mineo directed. I auditioned for him and was hired on the spot.

[Q] Playboy: What kind of man was he?

[A] Johnson: He was a very troubled human being. He had had a good deal of fame and fortune as a child star and was on the comeback trail as a director-actor. He had suffered a lot of adverse publicity about his bisexuality and his hanging out with Hell's Angels. He had this enigmatic aura around him, but I found him to be the dearest, most giving, compassionate human being. During the time I was doing the play, there were all kinds of stories and rumors that we were secretly lovers, but it (concluded on page 75)Don Johnson(continued from page 64) was never true.

[Q] Playboy: You've said that he was obsessed with you.

[A] Johnson: I think that Sal had an obsession with me, but he was always very respectful of my heterosexuality and my space, too, and was too much of a gentleman to let it get in the way. Anyway, the play was really well received and we were going to take it to New York, but I landed the title role in The Magic Garden of Stanley Sweetheart, a movie for MGM, which turned out to be a mistake.

[Q] Playboy: Thus beginning the infamous decade of lousy movies and TV pilots and your trouble with drugs and alcohol. You also were married twice during that period.

[A] Johnson: And I can't talk about either.

[Q] Playboy: Why?

[A] Johnson: I just won't comment.

[Q] Playboy: Because?

[A] Johnson: No comment.

[Q] Playboy: The third time, you married Melanie Griffith, and we presume you can talk about that one.

[A] Johnson: Well, yeah. Everyone has. Her mother, Tippi Hedren, and I were doing a film together. Melanie was 14 and terribly precocious, and I was 22. She went to the Virgin Islands for a while, and when she came back, she called me up and said [in falsetto], "Hi, Don, would you like to have lunch?" Melanie has the highest voice of any adult in the civilized world. So that began a relationship. I never intended to fall in love with Melanie. She literally picked me to be her first man.

[Q] Playboy: And you were a willing initiator?

[A] Johnson: Yeah. I discouraged her a couple of times, but then it was, you know, more than I could fend off.

[Q] Playboy: Did it ever dawn on you that 14 was a little young?

[A] Johnson: Well, yeah, the thought crossed my mind, even though I don't think that I was a terribly mature 22 at the time, and she was an incredibly mature and precocious woman child. But I didn't want to go to jail over it. I don't know what the age of consent ought to be, but in this case, I was coerced. We got married when she was 18. A couple of times we broke up over dumb things, but we would invariably get back together because we couldn't bear to be apart.

[Q] Playboy: Before Griffith, you dated Pamela Miller Des Barres and most recently, Patti D'Arbanville. Pamela has said the four of you are good friends, and she calls you "sort of our John Derek." Well?

[A] Johnson: Yeah. It really is funny, because we are all friends and Patti and Pamela and Melanie all hang out together. They're three extraordinary women, and I think it's more a credit to their sophistication and worldliness and the fact that they're just classy ladies than anything to do with me. I certainly didn't contrive it to be that way. Sometimes it can be very disconcerting to be around three women who know you very well.

[Q] Playboy: You and D'Arbanville have a son. How are you handling that?

[A] Johnson: We spend the holidays together a lot as a family unit. We don't try to pretend that it's all together, but we spend time together. We're very protective of him. We don't flaunt our other relationships--not that it would cause a problem if one of us ever got serious about someone else. It's just that we don't want him to get the feeling that it's OK to have multiple lovers all the time. I think it's confusing, and it's tough enough being a child and it's tough enough being a child of a celebrity and being a child of a divided home without having all that other stuff to deal with.

[Q] Playboy: You've said you naturally gravitate toward misfits. Is that still true?

[A] Johnson: It's pretty true. I like bright people, and usually they're social misfits or outcasts or outlaws, social deviants of some sort or other. If they've managed to survive, then there's usually something very colorful and very interesting about them. I like survivors. Yet I can go to dinner at the White House, man [grins], and have a blast.

[Q] Playboy: Tell us about dinner at the White House.

[A] Johnson: Come on! Get out of here: A farm boy from Missouri at dinner at the White House with Dutch and Nancy? Let's face it. It was fantastic. I used to joke about shit like that. Whenever I'd spill a drink or drop some food in my lap, I'd go, "Well, there goes dinner at the White House." So, needless to say, when I was at the White House, I approached the food on my plate like a viper in the grass. [Laughs] There was no way those little cherry tomatoes were going to squirt out of there and hit Nancy in the nose.

[Q] Playboy: You've worked on Nancy's antidrug campaign, right?

[A] Johnson: I did public-service announcements. I wrote a piece about drug abuse for the county health line. Stuff like that.

[Q] Playboy: Do you support the Administration's push for forced drug testing?

[A] Johnson: If we don't do something about the pervasive drug use and abuse in this country, I am fearful that it will be the downfall of our way of life. It will show up in generations to come and the quality of living will suffer. But rather than this Gestapo-like attitude, I think the real steps have to be made in the educational process and in law enforcement and in the deglamorization of drugs.

[Q] Playboy: What about the charge that Miami Vice inevitably glamorizes drugs?

[A] Johnson: Yes, the show is glamorous; Crockett and Tubbs are glamorous characters. But it's in the interest of reality: Drug dealers are flashy dressers; they spend money on flash. Yet at the same time, we paint them as losers.

[Q] Playboy: But if viewers perceive Vice as glamorizing drug use, as they apparently do, according to polls, that can sound like a rationale. Don't you think you're giving a double message?

[A] Johnson: I give the public enough credit to see beyond the surface--the clothes and cars. Miami Vice shows you that using drugs is a dead end. All the dealers and bad guys get caught or get killed. Over time, people will get this message, and I hope it'll be like the Chinese proverb about a blade of grass growing through a rock. There's something else, by the way: All the people pointing the finger--magazines, for instance, not to name names--run ads that glamorize liquor. Miami Vice doesn't glamorize it--on the contrary.

[Q] Playboy: You do benefits, work at least 12 hours a day on the show, record albums, direct, and now you say you'd like to do theater and produce. Is there anything missing from that list?

[A] Johnson: I just want to do as much as I can. Why not? I have lofty, lofty ambitions, all kinds of desires to burst the outside of the envelope. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. I guess it comes off as arrogance again--but, as they said about Bill Johnson, the skier, "It ain't braggin' if you can do it." So why not? Who wouldn't?

[Q] Playboy: Are you afraid that your workaholic drive is part of the same addictive personality that allowed you to get hooked on alcohol and drugs?

[A] Johnson: Yeah, there's something to that, but I'm not suicidal, though there are probably a few people out there who would disagree. Basically, I have a lust for living. I only ask that it not be boring, because that's one thing I cannot accept. But I don't think it'll get boring as long as I keep pushing.

[Q] Playboy: How far will you push?

[A] Johnson: When I'm out on my boat, which is one of the ways that I let it blow out, I like to go 80 miles an hour out across the ocean, as fast as I can get the boat to go. It's probably the same way I used to do it when I was getting high. There are times I can actually feel the sensation of the wind blowing through my aura, revitalizing me. I get that rush and it feels like...there are no limits at all. That's how far.

"It's outrageous. I've had girls come up and break down sobbing. I often hold them until they calm down a bit."

"'Miami Vice' shows you that using drugs is a dead end. All the dealers and bad guys get caught or get killed."