LiyE[ON FOREVER
LXti /JT
've worked with a lot of amazing women over the years. But out of all of them Farrah Fawcett was one of the most spectacular. She was a force of nature, and I'll always remember her feistiness. The negotiations for her first pictorial may be some of the most interesting I've been involved in during my 35 years as photography director of playboy. We had made many overtures to Farrah, and there was always a reason, commercial or personal, that prevented her from considering our offer.
Then one day out of the blue her agent called and said Farrah might be interested in appearing in the magazine. And so our conversations began. Would she show any nudity? How much nudity? Who would be the photographer? Where would the shooting take place? Would she have picture approval? These were the usual points of negotiation in any celebrity pictorial agreement, but in Farrah's case the discussions dragged on and on. She changed her mind repeatedly about everything. Finally, a deal was struck. After considering every competent photographer in the western hemisphere, we agreed on Davis Factor, a celebrity shooter. And it was decided the session would take place in St. Bails, a favorite island haunt of the A-list. Stylists, makeup artists and assistants were all arranged. No Playboy representatives were permitted at the shooting. I began to receive phone calls from Factor detailing Farrah's demands, her reluctance to appear nude, her reluctance to get in front of the camera at all. But Factor was good. He cajoled. He got angry. He and Farrah took turns intimidating each other. The shooting was completed, and we had gotten what we needed.
Next came the photo approvals. Our art director, Tom Staebler, undertook the task of obtaining them. Staebler is a charming fellow, a cross between Mick Jagger and Ringo Starr. Long hair, tight jeans, cowboy boots—he was right up Farrah's alley. He called me from her house. She had okayed the photos and was sitting on his lap. All was well. We did a beautiful 12-page layout and sent it to Hef for his approval. He thought it was too long and promptly took out two pages. We were on deadline. The revised layout went to the printer for our December 1995 issue. A couple of weeks later I got a call from Farrah. She had seen the layout. Where was that spread? I explained to her that we had taken it out. "What do you mean, took it out? Put it back," she said. I told her it was too late to put it back. She said, "The hell it is. I had photo approval." I told her yes, she did, but not layout approval. She started screaming obscenities into the phone, and I heard glass breaking. Then she calmed down and asked, "Do I really not have layout approval?" No, you don't. Silence on the phone. We didn't change the layout, but Farrah grew to love the pictorial so much that she did a second one for us. And she did a video as well. But that's a tale for another day. Later, one of Farrah's personal assistants and I were discussing my talk with her, and I asked about the sound of breaking glass. "Oh, Farrah was in her car, and she got so angry during the conversation that she kicked both side windows out with her feet," the assistant said. "No big deal." That was Farrah, and we'll always love her for it.
