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PHILIP MORRIS. ~ MI~GQZIIVE • SPRtLVG 19HB • AtViEFtICA'S BEST . CHARLIE DANIELS ON GRO\NING UP HAMISH MAXNELL ON TAXES CHARLES KURALT ON THE ROAD LARRY KING ON CHILI

Virginia Slims remembers the happy horyiemaker o f 1906. 8 mg "tar;' 0.6 mg nicotine av. per cigarette, FTC Report Feb '85. SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Cigarette Smoke Contains Carbon Monoxide.

ALETTERFR0~9 THE PVBLISHER 7, It took writer Toby Thompson all of four seconds to say "Yes!" to our suggestion that he fly to Alaska within three days to write an article about Iditarod winner Libby Riddles. "Yes," he said decisively, before adding, "Now, what's an Iditarod and who is Libby Riddles?" He found out and his discoveries will delight you. We knew that one of Toby's fortes is finding things. "I spent four years on the road searching for the great American bar," he says. The result was Saloon. It was while doing research for this book that Toby became a con- noisseur of great drives, "One o; the realty great American drives is the one from Anchorage to Seward in Alaska," he says, his voice sharp with enthusiasm. "Just a few miles out of the commuter frenzy of downtown Anchorage you're on the old Seward Highway, and suddenly y Charles Kuralt the inlet to your right is com- pletely filled with massive chunks of ice nearly the size of skyscrapers, with the mountains coming right down to the edge of the road. If you're there in winter, as I was, you go through passes where the snow is plowed two and three times higher than your automobile. When you come to the top of a pass, you look out across the mountains at a view that goes on forever. Toby's articles have appeared in numerous magazines includ- ing Brquire, Playboy, Vanity the newly released None But A Blockhead (from the quote by Dr. Samuel Johnson that "none but a blockhead would ever write except for money") is a native Texan, and a gourmet of fine chili. King didn't hesitate- he snapped at the story, meeting his deadline in record time. Thomas Jefferson's home at Monticello, in Virginia, has re- tained its dazzling beauty-at- tracting millions of Americans to its gracious gardens and stun- ning interiors. In this issue of Philip Morris, photographer Robert Llewellyn brings this subtle beauty to life with a study of Monticello as Jefferson knew it. Llewellyn's photos are well-known: he has published four books induding a photo- graphic study of Washington, (Washington, The Capital) as well as a study of the country- side that nurtured America's third president (Mr. Jefferson's Upland Virginia). L.lewellyn's v'ork has received the Silver er an au Award, New York Art Direc- Rob t L d Fair, and Outside. He teaches writing at Penn State, and is currently working on a book about the modem FBI. Like Toby, we've done some investigating too, and have pre- sented our findings in the "PM Notebook" section. We've found there are a lot of peo- ple-induding Philip Morris chairman and chief executive of- ficer Hamish Maxwell-who object to Senator Robert Pack- wood's proposals to raise excise taxes. We found a husband and wife team whose smokers' rights organization is becoming a job all by itself, In "PM Notebook" you can find out how the AFL- CIO came out against smoking bans. You will discover where in the Ritz-Carlton in Boston you are welcomed if you smoke. We asked for something en- tirely different from Larry King. We didn't want Larry to talk about issues (you see) but about things, in particular one thing- chili. The author of The Be.rt Little Whorehouse in Texas and tors' Club, Communication Arts magazine's Annual Art Award and Art Direction magazine's Creativity '82 Award. Mr. Llew- ellyn has taught photography at the University of Virginia. He was bom in Roanoke and cur- rently lives in the countryside near Charlottesville (just miles Larry King from Monticello) with his wife and dau¢hter. Billboard art is art of a differ- ent kind, but art neverrheless. In this issue photographer Robert Landau presents a series of stud- ies on those roadside attractions that epitomize what Sally Hen- derson-who collaborated as a writer with Landau on their book Billboard Art---cais the modem version of stone age "public communication." Hen- derson holds a masters degree in fine art and is an art consultant who assists some of the country's largest corporations in collecting art. Photographer Landau is an award winner whose work on billboards has appeared in a number of magazines, including Geo, Graphic, Horizon and New West. Charlie Daniels, of course, is one of our most famous and talented country singers. His reminiscences of growing up down home in North Carolina are excerpted by permission of Peachtree Publishers, Atlanta, Georgia. THE DEVIL WENT DOWN TO GEORGIA, by Charlie Daniels, is the singer's autobiography and features fif- teen short stories abut life in the South prior to the 1950s. The book is available for $12.95 at local book stores, or by writing Peachtree Publishers, Ltd., 494 Armour Cirde, N.E., Atlanta, Georgia 30324. Finally, we have an article from TV commentator Charles Kuralt, who spends much of his time at CBS not at CBS, but On The Road finding out how we as a people work and play in this great land. We hope you enjoy this Spring issue of Philip Morris. Guy Smith, Publither PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SPRING 1986 3

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TABLE OF CONTENTS I JEFFERSON'S MONTICELLO SPORTSWOMAN LIBBY RIDDLES 30 24 HOT STUFF 15 LETTER FROM THE PUBLISHER 3 ANOTHER ROADSIDE ATTRACTION 6 DOWN HOME 10 THE BEST LITTLE HOT STUFF IN TEXAS 15 PM NOTES 19 THE GIRL FROM THE NORTH COUNTRY 24 JEFFERSON COUNTRY 30 SMALL WORLDS 35 THE PARKING METER 38 ON THE COVER Libby Riddles and friend in Anchorage. Photo by: Pierre Gilles Vidoli. Hair and makeup by: Jenny Walder & V'uage. The Philip Morris Magazine Spring 1986 Volume 1, Number 4 Paul Dietrich, Editor-in-Chief; Frank Gannon, Editor; Owen Hartley, Art Director Mark Perry, Senior Editor; Briana Porte, Managing Editor; Elisabeth Squire, Production Manager; Larry King, Toby Thompson, Contributing Editors Guy L. Smith, Publisher; Mary A. Taylor, Associate Publisher Correspondents Senior Correspondents: V. Buccellato, L. Glennie, J. Gillis, G. Powell, D. Nelson, H. Mize. Correspondents: Atlanta: E. Glantz, K. Sass; Baltimore: F. Swartz; Boston: J. Keighley; Charfotte: H. Johnson, J. Jones, F. Rhodes; Chicago: L. Scanlon, E. Van Dyke; Cleveland: C. Miller; Dallas: C. Finch, W. Lott; Denver. J. Gibson, R. Phillips; Detroit: B. Hopkins; Hartford: A. Glaeberman; Houston: J. Love; Jacksonville: G. Wren; Kansas City: D. Alford: Los Angeles: M. Maitino, T. O'Hirok; Louisville: D. Ison, B. Kohl, C. Johnson; Miami: G. Burgess; Minneapolis: P. Bainter; Nashville: R. Martindale; New Orleans: J. Paddock: New York: S. Charney, M. Faulk, 0. Florio, N. Gold, M. Irish, J. Kochevar, G. Leibstone. A. Miller, J. Nelson, B. Quinby, J. Ramsay, A. Roberts, S. Strausser, S. Weiss; Paterson: P. Gregorlo; Philadelphia: J. Chang, J. Chaump; Richmond: G. Choate, J. Frye, R. Moore; St. Louis: J. Petroski; San Diego: C. Evarkiou; San Francisco; C. Roseland,; Seattle: J. Henry; Syracuse: J. Bartek. Philip Morris Magazine is published by Philip Morris, USA, 120 Park Avenue, New York, New York 10017; Frank E. Resnik, president, Prepared by Saturday Review Magazine. Editorial offices: 214 Massachusetts Avenue, NE. Suite 460, Washington, D.C. 20002. Copyright © 1986 Philip Morris U.S.A. All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or In part without written permission is prohibited. Publisher reserves the right to accept or reject any editorial or advertising matter. Publisher assumes no responsibility for the return of unsolicited manuscripts or art. The material is provided for the reader's information and enjoyment only. Philip Morris U.S.A. does not endorse or assume liability for its contents. Publication date: April 15, 1986. PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SPRING 1986 5

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obert Landau's striking photos of America's billboards show that they're more than adver- fl tisements-they're art. From inner city walls to the drive- through art gallery called the Sunset Strip, billboards are a colorful part of today's urban landscapes. PHOTOGRAPHY BY ROBERT LANDAU

The first Los Angeles billboard for Superman: The Movie bore only two hands tearing open a shirt to reveal the Superman logo. After several weeks a new billboard appeared featuring the full-length figure of Superman streaking across the Sunset Strip. The Marlboro cowboy, evoking images of the Wild West, independence, and solitude, has been one of the most successful long-running worldwide advertising campaigns. In an increasingly complex society, the cowboy image calls up the longing for simplicity and independence.

DOWN IIOM[ Famed countly singer Charlie Daniels talks about his Carolina childhood BY CBARLIE DANIEGS My home state of North Carolina was first- growth, long-leaf pine trees and pristine dirt roads with broad rivers and narrow bridges. Few people there went to college, and New York City seemed as far away as the moon. Wilmington was a picturesque old city of about forty thousand people, a seaport town with pink and white azalea bushes and mas- sive old live oak trees with Spanish moss hanging from their branches. The Cape Fear River meandered through downtown, and the Atlantic Ocean was about ten miles away. The old house we lived in is on the ouskirts of Wilmington today, but in the late thirties and early forties it was considered quite a ways out of the city. And by today's stan- dards, that old house was quite primitive. It had electricity but no indoor plumbing. We had a hand pump on the back porch and an outhouse in the back yard. And yes, friends, it's true-the Sears and Roebuck catalog spent its last days in the outhouse, growing smaller by the day. The first erotic pictures I ever saw were the ladies modeling lingerie on the pages of that famous catalog. All of our heat in the winter came from a wood-burning stove. I remember taking baths in a galvanized washtub with the side of me toward the fire burning up and the other side freezing. Other early memories are a little less vivid. I remember riding a green tricyde on the front porch, because that was the only place I had to ride. There weren't any sidewalks out where we lived. And I remember a little black puppy my daddy brought home in his coat one day. I also remember the hurt when that little dog was run over. I'm sure that time has colored my memo- ries to some extent, but it seemed that when we lived on the Carolina Beach Road that the moon would shine brighter than it ever has since. And there were so many stars that the night sky looked like country butter stirred up in grandma's molasses. At a pretty young age, I discovered family in general and grandparents in particular. My daddy, Carlton, came from a big, close-knit family of three boys and six girls. There was Johnnie, Jewel, Mable, Odell, Ila, Ona, Eg- bert and Marvin. Although my paternal grandfather passed away very early in my life, my grandmother. Grandma Daisy, was full of life and I loved her with all my heart. She was a pious woman with long chestnut hair that she wore up in a bun behind her head. She was fat and jolly and the very epitome of what a grandma's supposed to be. A visit to her house was a real treat. It meant riding the mules and playing with my cousins Murray and Hector Van and Walton and Jimmy and Mack and Clayton, not to mention our friend, Pete Perkins. There was a creek with a swimming hole and nearby a grove of pecan trees where we went with Grandma Daisy to gather pecans. Her old homeplace was even more primi- rive than our house. It had no electricity and no running water, but Grandma Daisy cooked scrumptious Southern meals on a wood cookstove, and the water from the well was dear and sweet. There was always home- made butter and fresh watermelon in the summertime, and fireplaces and 9atirons and kerosene lamps and fluffy feather beds that sank down in the middle when you lay down on them-all sorts of things to charm a boy my age. Most of my daddy's brothers and sisters lived within a few miles of the old homeplace, and we saw a lot of them during our visits. On Sunday afternoons a multitude of neigh- bors and kinfolks would gather up at Grand- ma's house. The ladies would sit around the front room and talk about somebody's thy- roid condition, while the men would stand around in the yard discussing the finer points of bluetick hound dogs and the price of fertil- izer. Invariably someone would sit down at Grandma Daisy's old, out of tune, upright 10 PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SPRING 198b 2040235316

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There was always home-made butter and fresh watermelon and fzrepCaces and flatirons and kerosene lamps and,;fhuffy feather beds-all sorts of things to charm a boy my abe. piano, and the first thing you knew the front room was full of people singing. They sang old hymns mostly, and once in a while some old obscure songs that I've never heard anyplace else. "Mildred, play 'Powder In The Blood.' " "Yeah, and then let's do 'Leave Them Browns A.lone.' " And so it went with "The Old Rugged Cross" and "Amazing Grace," "Just A Little Talk With Jesus" and "When The Roll Is Called Up Yonder." And then Mrs. Mollie Singletary would sit down to the piano and play my favorite. It was called "And The Whale Did," and Mrs. Mollie would be sitting there banging away on that old upright piano for all she was worth with a room full of people singing: "And the whale did And the whale did Yes the whale did Swallow Jonah down." Oh, I just loved it. I do believe that was the only song Mrs. Mollie Singletary knew how to play, but it was enough. And finally somebody would say, "Gladys, I reckon we better go." And then would be- gin a Southern ritual that was repeated every time good people would get together. "Oh, y'all don't need to go. Stay around and have something to eat with us." "Well, we appreciate it, but we better run on. Y'all come see us. Marvin, I'll be on over here early in the morning." And early it was, for it was a sunup till sundown proposition when you raised bright leaf tobacco for a living. You had to plant the seeds in a bed and cover them with netting, in hopes that the frost didn't kill the young plants. Then you pulled the healthiest plants in the spring and transplanted them in the field, hoping that I guess you could say that raising tobacco was ninety-nine percent hard work and ninety-nine percent hope, and i that adds up to 198 percent, so be it. they would take hold and grow. Then you fertilized it, ploughed it, suckered it, hoed it, sprayed it for worms and hoped that you'd make a crop. About twelve weeks later you harvested it by picking one leaf at a time, strung it on sticks, hung the sticks in the bam, cured it, took the sticks out of the bam, took the tobacco off the sticks, graded it, tied it and hauled it to market, hoping that you made enough money to pay off the debts you'd incurred during the year being a tobacco farmer. In other words, I guess you could say that raising tobacco was ninety-nine percent hard work and ninety-nine percent hope, and if that adds up to 198 percent, so be it. That's how it was. Everybody used to go to town on Saturday, so the streets of Elizabethtown would be crawling with people. There'd be little knots of people standing on the street talking-men in bib overalls and khaki pants and ladies in dean print dresses. There'd also be barefooted little boys, hur- rying off down the street to the Bladen The- ater to sit through three cartoons, two cowboy movies and a chapter of whatever black-and- 12 PHIIIP MORRIS MAGAZINE;'SPRING 1986

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I a l~iod~~ appreciates Saturday like a country bo3~. It was a magical day, filled with popcorn and chocolate ice cream sodas and Roy Rogers and Gene Autry and Bob Steele. white serial that happened to be running. Nobody appreciates Saturday like a country boy. It was a magical day, filled with popcorn and chocolate ice cream sodas and Roy Rogers and Gene Autry and Bob Steele. It was the most successful social happening I've ever at- tended. Then when Saturday afternoon turned to Saturday night, it was off for home to a stan- dard supper of hotdogs and Pepsi-Colas and the Grand Ole Opry. I can't begin to tell you what an impact the Grand Ole Opry had on the rural southeast. 650-WSM came booming down our way all the way from Nashville, Tennessee, sound- ing for all the world like a local station, and everybody listened to the Grand Ole Opry. Roy Acuff owned Saturday night. He was the King as I know of no other man being in my lifetime. He still is in my book. My grandmother was Mattie Lee Suggs, before she married Granddaddy, and if God ever made a sweeter woman, I've never met her. She was the gentlest person I've ever known, and one of her biggest pleasures in life was cooking huge Southem-style meals and watching people enjoy eating them. Needless to say, I always gave a good ac- count of myself when I put my feet under my grandmother's table. We'd have a big platter of fried chicken, rice and gravy, speckled but- ter beans and cream-style Silver Queen com, collard greens, big old biscuits and iced tea that'd already been sweetened. Now, you can't sit down to a spread like that and ask somebody to pass the cottage cheese. I was at my grandparents' house that cold, gray Sunday in December when the bombs fell on Pearl Harbor. I was only five at the time, but I remember it was a grim day. Shortly after the war started, Daddy went to work for the Atlantic Coastline Railroad, and they shipped us off to Valdosta, Georgia. Housing was hard to come by during :he war, so we lived in the Daniel Ashley Hotel for several weeks. I'd never been verc• far away from Wilmington, and the most :rmesome sight I've ever seen was looking our :he win- dows of that hotel down onto the u:.familiar streets of Valdosta. It was a traumatic experience for 3>ix-year- old country boy who was used to =tuming barefoot through the Bermuda grass 1f coastal North Carolina to be suddenly cooptd up on the fifth floor of a hotel. In the meantime, I started sc-ecil and made some new friends. I think I wrAuld have liked Valdosta, but I just wasn't aru=nd long enough to find out. Between the nrae I frn- lYfy daddy told me early on not to start a fight, but he said, "Charles, ifyou've got tofight, don't pay no attention to how much he's hurting you. Just keep on hurtinb him." ished the first grade and started the -_iird, we chased the creosote industry back m Wil- mington, then to Elizabethtown. .o Wil- mington again and finally to Baxlev, Georgia. Baxley was one of those sleepy :ir<1e south Georgia towns with a dock towe: on che courthouse and one movie theater. : had my first real job in Baxley one summer. I was a water boy in a tobacco warehouse, ar~d if my memory serves me correctly, it twelve and a half dollars a week. By the time I started fifth graJe. w•e had PHILIP StORRIS MAGAZINE;SPRING 986 I3 -~.,.. w w ti

moved to Goldston, North Carolina. The school was called Goldston High School, but it could have been called Goldston Elemen- tary, Junior High and High School, because it was all of that. All together, there were three hundred and some students in rw elve grades. We lived about ten miles out of Goldsron in Chatham County in a big old farmhouse that came complete with a milk cow and a collie dog. There was a creek at the foot of the property where I'd catch little perch, and Mama would fry them up for me. On Satur- day night, my friends Charles and Horton Seagroves and Clarence Johnson would come over to our house and we'd roast weenies out in the yard. I got my first shotgun for Christmas that year-an Iver Johnson twenty-gauge single barrel. That qualified me as a real hunter, and all the men in my family liked to hunt. I remember a year when Daddy went coon hunting every night during the month of October. It was against the law to hunt on Sunday, so he'd get up at midnight, which made it Mohday morning, and go. I used to go with him pretty often. I loved hearing the dogs run and listening to the men around the fire telling stories of past hunts and things they used to do when they were boys. I sus- pect most of it was probably pretty well in- flated, but it sure made interesting listening. The next summer I worked in the wcx)d.s with Daddy and met a lot of people I guess I'll remember the rest of my life. There was Dewitt and Peewee and Agie and Merk and O.C. and Johnny, all gentlemen with stories to tell just like the hunting crowd. Maybe that's when my appreciation for good storytelling began. I got through the fifth grade and part of the sixth before we left Goldston. I eventually graduated from Goldston High School, but not before attending school again in Wil- mington; Elizabethtown; Spartanburg, South Carolina; and NX'iLnington one more time. I can't say that I regret all that moving around we did when I was a kid, cause it was I remember taking baths in a galvanized washtub with the side of me touvard thefire burninb up and the other side freeNinbs an education in itself. But it got kind of aggravating. I'd have a set of friends in one town and then next thing you knew we were in a new town with a whole new set of friends to make and a whole new set of bullies to face. I've always been big for my age, and when I'd walk into a new classroom, some knothead would feel that his "baddest boy in the class" status was being threatened and he'd proceed to take me on. My daddy told me early on not to start a fight, but he said, "Charles, if you've got to fight, don't pay no attention to how much he's hurting you. Just keep on hurting him." Well, thanks to Daddy's advice and a whole lot of unwanted experience, I guess I did all right. The last time we moved back to Chatham County, we didn't live in the country. No sir, we lived smack in the middle of downtown Gulf, North Carolina. Gulf or the Gulf as some folks called it, was a wide place in the road, State Route 412 to be exact. It had three filling stations, one general store and a Presbyterian church. Gulf was no metropolis by any stretch of the imagi- nation, but let me tell you something, friend, the Gulf was happening in the early fifties. We might have been a one-horse town, but we rode that old horse to death. 14 PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SPRING 1986

THE BEST LITTLE HOT STUFF IN TEXAS Everythijag you zr~anted to know about chili. .. and some of the facts may ezven be tme. BY L irPy hING Many unreliable sources have attempted to take credit for the invention of chili. Russians and Texans are the worst offenders, natives of those exotic lands being braggarts by nature and strangers to the truth. The Russians alIege that a certain Ivan Popoff, stranded in Siberia an inconvenient distance from a supermarket, used his sled dogs, odd spices and a handful of snow to give chili a start. Texans claim that a hardy group of range cowboys, equally low on provi- sions and stalled by a panhandle sleet storm, sacrificed the odd goat and their random spices to the invention of chili. If you believe either of those yarns try to buy some spices from the next dog-sledder or cowpoke you find wandering around in a blizzard. He won't have a thing with him but frozen har- ness and a tall tale. The most widely accepted propaganda is that sixteen families from the Canary Islands, ruled by Spain, settled in the 1720s near what is now San Antonio, Texas and soon accom- plished a rough "meat stew" spiced with oregano, garlic and cumin seed. In the fullness of time, they supposedly added onions, toma- toes and maybe beans; then they kept tinker- ing with their stew until it somehow artained the magic properties of what we now know is nature's most sustaining food: chili. Maury Maverick, Jr., San Antonio lawyer and all-round agitator, has tortured logic in attempting to prove that chili first was men- tioned in the Old Testament-sort of-and that its invention most assuredly was assisted by the Jews. Maverick cites the prophet Isiah as saying "For the plowman doth scatter the cumin," then makes a remarkable leap of faith to Deuteronomy 14 and Leviticus 27- Editors Note: The Editors of Philip Morris Magazine recog- nize that the bulge in Mr. King's cheek zr not a plug of smokeless tobacco but rather his tongue jauntily placed there as he composed this outra- geous piece on the subject of chili. We hope our readers will find the article entertaining and instructive (while not taking it too seriously) and we promise equal time and space to all who feel themselves maligned. dealing with the tithing of grain-before doubling back to explain that the written codification of Judaic Law interprets "grain" as including "cumin." So, see, the Jews then told the Moors about cumin and the Moors told the Canary Islanders-who forthwith rushed a batch to 01' San Antone and sat about conjuring up chili. The Mexicans also have tried to claim chili credit. Since there was no Texas in the 18th Century-they say-when those Canary Is- landers got to mixing their herbs and spices and stumbled on the invention of chili, the event happened in Mexico! But Mexico, you see, then belonged to Spain-and Spain had no more to do with the invention of chili than did North Korea. You can't get a decent "bowl of red" in any of those countries. The truth is, chili was invented long before Isiah prophesied a lick-and eons before there was a Russia, a Spain, a Mexico, a Texas, a cowboy, an Ivan Popoff; a goat, a sled dog, or Canary Islanders. Chili, you see, began in Heaven. God made it as soon as He had enough light to see to mix it and heat enough to grow chili pep- pers. Anybody who has ever sampled my chili will immediately taste the blissful truth in that contention. Chili, done right, simply can- not be improved upon. Prideful chili chefs do not expect to find blue-ribbon chili in restaurants. Passable chili is served in only seven restaurants in the world. Five of these are in Texas: El Rancho in Y Austin, Cafe Dominguez in Dallas, Ben's Lit- V de Mexico in Odessa, Joe T. Garcia's in Fort ~ Worth and Juanita's in Fort Worth. (The Y others are Juanita's in Manhattan-sister to 2 the Fort Worth Juanita's-and the Texas Y PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SPRING 1986 15

Chili Parlor in WasYungton, D.C., though the latter is disadvantaged in being surrounded by used car lots, wig shops, a bus terminal and a perpetual convention of street beggars). Still, a good chili cook who seeks culinary thrills in commercial restaurants makes about as much sense as Rembrandt joining a paint- by-numbers class. The quality of a bowl of chili is best judged by how much it makes your head sweat. The ratio roughly should be one pint of sweat per serving. Properly-hot chili wards off rheuma- tism as well as making Hawaii and Miami Beach vacations superfluous. Eat enough hot chili and you will be comfortable in February in the Artic. Sissies who complain of firey chili deadening their taste buds fail to under- stand that, to the contrary, it awakens taste buds they otherwise might never know they had. To paraphrase Harry Truman, "If they can't stand the he•at, let 'em eat quiche." My pet peeve is restaurants advertising "mild" chili. "Mild" chili is as useless as fat sprinters. You want mild, try comflakes. Good chili should be too thick to drink and too thin to plow. Waming: it is also habit-forming. When it comes to concocting chili many are called-though few are chosen. Alleged chili chefs are exposed as shoe cobblers and ribbon clerks the moment they profane their pots by including bell peppers, chopped cel- ery, tomatoes fresh, canned or stewed, hom- iny, cornmeal, or sweet basil. Nothing even rtightly sweet should touch chili. Only crass pretenders use packaged chili mixes. Only faint-hearted finks stoop to store-bought chili powders when they have the option of grind- ing up their own chili peppers or cooking said peppers into such a potent paste it may make their gums bleed. No beans whatever should be superim- posed on chili. A foolish breed of Texan, and a few Okies think beans improve chili when, in fact, beans corrupt the character of pure chili. The chili chef adding pinto (or "red") beans to his pot is guilty of a simple felony; any alleged cook substituting kidney, lima or any other bean known to the mind of man should automatically qualify for the death penalty. Chili con carne--chili with (ugh!) beans-is to true chili as punk rock racket is to true music. Many otherwise skilled, eduated and ac- complished persons are somehow reduced to petrified ignoramuses when faced with mak- ing a simple pot of chili. Though I hate to rat-fink on a fellow Texan, television commentator Bill Moyers thinks it permissible to include canned toma- toes and packaged chili mix in his pot. May the Lord have mercy on his soul, Writer Thomas McGuane, though prop- erly warning against the exact chili sins of Mr. Moyers, is so foolish as to recommend venison meat and chopped bell peppers. (Pa-tooie! Cedrick, brang me that mouthwash right quick.') The Yankee writer Dan Wakefield would use common supermarket hamburger in his chili, God save the mark, and complicate his crime by adding nutmeg! Nutmeg, Wake- field says smugly, is his "secret ingredient." In the interest of chili integrity, may that secret be forever well-kept and laws passed to prevent its proliferation. I think-and hope-that Willie Morris, writer-in-residence at the University of Mis- sissippi, is joking when he recommends add- ing to the chili pot "catfish heads, other delec- table ice-box leftovers and a pour of Karo syrup." To hi,s credit, Morris cautions that "One should not eat anything that refuses to melt. Please." Artists are not alone guilty of befouling the chili pot. Congressman Jim Wright of Texas-and House Majority Leader-carries on about his chili almost as much as he rants against "voodoo economicx" and other Re- publican schemes. When it comes to his spe- cific ingredients, however, Wright is as coy and vague as most in his alleged profession. I therefore cannot say exactly what gives Con- gressman Wright's chili its distinctive quali- ties, though I suspect it is horse Iinament, orange juice and chocolate sauce. Wright's chili tastes like one of those fruity drinks they sell in California fem bams, with a sprinkling of cigar ash in it. Lyndon B. Johnson used to proclaim his chili the best in the whole Free World. To keep matters in perspective, it should perhaps be recalled that he also many times pro- claimed certain victory in Vietnam, Mr. Johnson took shameful shortcuts in using chili powder as opposed to chili pods and- honor of horrors-adding stewed canned to- matoes. I could never take LBJ seriously after hearing him say, "Y'all wanta be sure and skim the grease offthe top before you eat your chili, now." Grease is almost as vital to good chili as is a firey quality and proper meat. And the only meat suitable for chili is beef round steak cut into semi-sizable chunks. Grinding beef robs it of its natural juices and puts me in the mind of spaghetti. Chili has more uses than Band Aids or putty. also cook a mean chili dip, chili pequin sauce, chili con caso, chili casserole and chili soufHe. I doubt, however, whether you ama- teurs can yet handle such complexities so I will at this point sign off with wishes of good eatin' and await the many proposals of mar- riage surely to follow. 4V 6 ~ Larry L. King's most recent books are W,`arning lY'riter at Work (Texas Christian University Press: Fort Worth) and None But A Blockhead: ~ On Being a lP'riter (Viking Press: New York).

Read at your risk...rook at yotU peril: King's Better'n Sex Chili Women have left their husbands over my chili. Servicemen have deserted their posts for it. Dictators were recently overthrown in Haiti and the Philippines because they wouldn't share it with the masses. Though I rarely share my recipe with those I don't know well enough to kiss, the editors have persuaded me to here reveal it in the interest of humanity and for two thousand dollars. It would be cheap at twice the price. Here, then, are the secrets of King's Better'n Sex Chili: 2 lbs. beef round steak ?/a cup bacon drippings 6 dry red chili pods 1 t-spoon ground cunun I t-spoon oregano 2 chopped onions 3 tbl-spoons flour 6 ounces tomato paste Juice of 1 lime 6 minced doves garlic 2-3 cups of hot water Pinch of salt Beef stock Louisiana Red Devil pepper sauce (liberally applied) a lb. chopped Longhorn cheese Dash of black pepper One chopped jalapeno pepper 6 sprinkles Worcestershire sauce Now here is where the genius of the cook comes in. Do exactly as I instruct below and you can romance the person of your choice and may from some grateful source inherit serious money. Also, you will get your sinuses deared: Sear meat in bacon drippings until it is a healthy brown. Qean chili pods in cold water, removing the seeds. Cover the chilis with fresh water and bring to a boil; after 20-25 minutes, peel the chilis. Keep the water; re- move chilis, scrape pulp away from the skins. Then mash the pulp into a potent paste. Add sauteed meat and mix together in water used to boil the chili pods. Cover with beef stock. Then add such additional water as needed to bring total water to 2-3 cups. Dump in lime juice, ground cumin, chopped onions, garlic, salt and black pepper to taste, chopped jalapeno pepper, tomato paste, oreg- ano, flour, and initial dashes of Worcester- shire sauce and Louisiana Red Devil pepper sauce. (Tabasco sauce will do in a pinch.) Swoggle everything all around in the pot until your soul tells you the mix has attained perfect harmony. Let simmer two to two and one-half hours, depending on patience, hunger pangs and desired thickness. Every half hour add a quick dash of Worcestershire sauce and generous sprinklings of Louisiana Red Devil or Ta- basco. (You will have the proper amount of hot stuff when the pot's vapors sting your eyes and your stirring hand begins to feel semi- basted.) Also, each half hour, chunk into the 2 simmering pot handfuls of finely chopped Longhorn cheese for texrure improvement and a bonus of surprisingly exotic flavors. That added touch will make your chili taste like the rainbow looks. King's Better'n Sex Chili recipe serves eight, unless King is one of them. Then it serves only two. In the unlikely event any of this wonderful chili is left over, permit it to mature in the refrigerator overnight. Then heat and pour it across your eggs at breakfast. You may, in- deed, wish to let the chili mature for several days before employing it for breakfast. Like certain authors, the older it gets the better it becomes. 2040235326 - w Y 4 u' 4 18 PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SPRING 1986

PM NOTEBOOK IN THENEINS * PACKWOOD TAX PACKAGE BOMBS T I Hamirh Maxwell, Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of Philip Morris Companies, Inc., has writ- ten the Senate Finance Committee to register Philip Morris' strong opposition to the proposed Pack- wood tax package. In his letter to every member of the committee, Maxwell pointed out serious ffawr in the Packwood plan, rpeciftcally the elements that made it infia- tionary, regressive and unfair to corporations which would be forced to pay taxes on the excise taxes they already collect for the federal government. Because American consumers will be at the top of the list to foot the bill for the Packwood plan, we reprint Mr. .'blaxwell's letter and its concise analysis of the issues: Philip Morris vigorously op- poses certain of the elements of Senator Packwood's tax package. The package restores tax prefer- ences to some industries which the House bill had reduced; the Senator proposes to pay for this preferential treatment of these industries by creating what amounts to a massive and infla- tionary increase of federal excise taxes. These new consumption taxes would wipe out a very large part of any benefit that low and moderate income families might get from reduced income tax rates. Senator Packwood's proposal rests on a provision that would increase federal excise taxes by purporting to disallow these ex- cise taxes as business expenses. Instead, the excise taxes, which companies collect as revenue agents on behalf of the Federal government, would be treated as income and taxed against at the highest corporate income tax rate. The Senator's package also provides that certain excise taxes, gasoline, alcohol and tobacco- will automatically increase as prices increase. The indexation of fuel, alcohol and tobacco ex- cise taxes to price changes is a highly inflationary system of taxation which has hurt the economies of many less devel- Hamish Maxwell oped countries. It also breaks with the traditional federal tax- ation philosophy that excise taxes should be left principally to the states as a source of reve- nue, and finally, it appears to distort the role of Congress as the tax setting authority and substitutes an automatic price inflator. No amount of semantics can obscure the fact that Senator Packwood's proposal is a mas- sive consumer tax increase. We would Iike to set the record straight. • The current law is not a loop- hole-federal excise taxes are a legislated cost of doing busi- ness and are not "income" to the companies that collect them. Excise taxes are col- lected by the manufacturers or providers of services and remitted to the federal gov- emment in full even if rhose companies are operating at a loss and pay no income taxes. • This tax increase is a regressive tax increase-the proposal has the effect of raising all federal excise taxes by over 50%. Excise taxes are consumption taxes which are invariably passed through to the ulti- mate consumer and fall most heavily on those of low or moderate income. • This tax increase penalizes companies which have acted as government agents-excise taxes are generally collected at the company level to mini- mize the difficulty and com- plexity which would result from trying to collect them from consumers. This so- called nondeductibility would penalize those companies which are required to act as collectors on behalf of the government. This is akin to taxing a bank teller on all the money that passes through his window. • This tax increase raises serious constitutional questions-the 16th amendment authorizes a tax on income, not on gross receipts. The tax proposed brings with it serious constitu- tional issues. Two of the industries in which Philip Morris competes, cigarettes and brewing, are targeted by the Packwood pro- posal. Preliminary estimates in- dicate that this proposal would cause consumer price increases of over $6 billion for cigarettes and $2 billion for beer in the first full year alone. The inflationary impact of the proposal would cost those consumers well over $40 billion in the next five years. At retail, the initial industry, hurt U.S. farmers and led directly to losses in manufac- turing jobs. Senator Packwood's proposal threatens a significant proportion of the almost three quarters of a million American jobs directly related to tobacco and brewing. The livelihoods of a quarter of a million farm families who pro- duce the 1.3 billion pounds of tobacco and the 7.6 billion pounds of barley, hops, com and rice which are used in those industries every year, also are endangered by the unfair tax- upon-tax which the Senator has proposed. Philip Morris supported HR 3838 in the past and continues to support it today. We feel HR 3838 fulfil}s the principles of fairness and neutrality in tax reform as called for by the Presi- dent and deserves our continued support. Senator Packwood's proposal, as currently written, is manifestly a giant step in the wrong direction. Simply put, it is a massive tax increase, unfairly impacting on a selected group of low and moderate income con- sumers with a serious fallout on farmers, workers and small busi- ness people. tt- ~ AFL-CIO SLAMS REPORT ON SMOKING Back in December when Sur- geon General C. Everett Koop released his report on smoking in the workplace, the AFL-CIO was quick to attack it. In a press release issued the day after the report came out, the union said impact on the consumer could be an increase of about $2.50 per carton of cigarettes and about $1.00 per case of beer. We have already seen the ef- fect increased excise taxes can have on industry. In the last few years, such increases in our ciga- rette business have depressed the a \\.' ~ ~~_ ~ thar the report "will seriously set back effores to protect the health of American workers." Criticizing the Surgeon Gen- eral's report for its "glaring inac- curades," the AFL-CIO also fo- cused on the obvious omissions PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SPRING 1986 19 1

P M NOTEBOOK in a report that was devoted solely to the issue of smoking. The AFL-CIO predicted that the report "will lead to misdiag- nosis of occupational disease. It will make it even more difficult for workers suffering occupation- ally-related disease to secure compensation to which they are entitled. And it will be used by those who are responsible for poisoning workers to avoid legal liability." In February, the AFL-CIO Executive Council issued a state- ment that expanded on this theme, saying "The AFL-CIO believes that employers will at- rempt to use the report to shirk their responsibility to dean up the workplace and to place the blame for occupational disease on workers who smoke," The Executive Council state- ment also emphasized the union's opposition to hiring pol- icies based on smoking and to workplace smoking bans. On the hiring issue, it said, "We oppose employer discrimination against hiring of smokers and employer proposals to mandate the removal of smokers from certain jobs or to require partici- pation in smoking ceSsation pro- grams as an excuse not to meet their responsibility to dean up the workplace. Employers should not be allowed to shift the bur- den to individual workers. Regarding smoking bans, the Executive Council noted that "Proposals to ban smoking in the workplace are increasing. Unions are faced with legislation or unilaterally imposed employer policies that forbid smoking on the job and infringe on the rights of workers who smoke. Unions have a legal responsibIl- ity to represent the interests of all their members-smokers and non-smokers. The AFL-CIO be- lieves that issues related to smoking on the job can be best worked out voluntarily in indi- vidual workplaces between labor and management in a manner that protects the interests and rights of all workers and not by legislative mandate." PRQFILES A CRITICS HIT AMA'S AD BAN PROPOSAL; CHARGE The American Medical Associa- tion called early this winter for a ban on tobacco product advertis- ing and quickly was given more second opinions than a break dancer with vertigo. The 371-member AMA house of delegates, representing 271,000-odd members, fewer than half of the physicians in the United States, voted over- whelmingly to push for Congres- sional passage of legislation se- verely restricting sales of tobacco products and banning outright their advertising and promotion. The first ad ban dissent came right from the floor. Delegate D. E. Ward, a Lumberton, N.C., surgeon, called it a viola- tion of tobacco manufacturers' "Constitutional right to advertise their products'in a competitive manner." The AMA's weekly American Medical News commented sub- sequently that the floor debate on the issue "serves as a re- minder that the dispute about smoking--nd efforts to restrict it through stiffened laws-is far from over." Syndicated columnist Earl Caldwell even suggested AMA's motives. "At their annual meet- ing, they've taken to pulling a rabbit out of a hat to get public- ity. Last year, they proposed a ban on boxing." And publicity AMA got, through perhaps not what it ex- pected. Much of it sounded First Amendment and Big Brother themes. Some of it questioned that a ban would accomplish AMA's stated goal of reducing cigarette consumption and pre- venting teenagers' taking up smoking. Editorial writers from Trenton to Minneapolis to Sacramento called the idea "misguided," "ill-considered" or "off-the- wall." Many pointed out that a decrease in tobacco consumption had not followed ad bans in some European countries (See January 1986 front page story in TTO on tobacco ad ban in Nor- way) ' ABC-TV's Sam Donaldson, fresh from making his own headlines by complaining about smoking in the White House pressroom, said he couldn't go along with a ban he considered unconstitutional. Brickbats also flew in AMA's home town. The Chicago Tri- bune accused the physicians of "showing worrisome symptoms ... of an advanced case of intol• erance." 20 PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SPRING 1986

E THREAT T01ST AMENDMENT AMERICAN MEDICAL ASSOCIA7"ION The Trib admitted that, like other newspapers, it makes money from cigarette ads. It added, however, "Newspapers do not depend on cigarette ad- vertising-if tobacco companies went out of business tomorrow, this newspaper would survive just fine. But newspapers do de- pend on the First Amendment right of free speech and are not eager to see anyone lose it, ad- vertisers or otherwise." Time subheaded its report "The AMA anti-ad campaign strikes legal sparks," and quoted three Constitutional experts criti- cal of the AMA's legal thinking. "A First Amendment absolute," declared an editor of the Levit- town-Bristol (Pa.) Courier Times. "If it's legal to make and sell cigarettes, it's legal to advertise them." good., ., Not surprisingly, the trade papers Advertising Age and Adu-eek took exception, too. As did advertising and publishing trade associations, who were quick to present opposing views, in print, by letter and on na- tional TV. These included the American Association of Ad- vertising Agencies, American Advertising Federation, the Association of National Ad- vertisers, West Coast Black Pub- lishers Association, Magazine ABC-TV's Sam Donaldson, fresh from making his own headlines by complaining about smoking in the W"hite House pressroom, said he couldn't go along with a ban he considered unconstitutional. A Newark Star-Ledger reader, in a published letter, questioned "if there is a direct and provable causal link between ads showing people smoking and the con- scription of new smokers." "I don't think these ads en- courage people to smoke," a re- tired cook from Westville, Ill., told USA TODAY. "If we de- cided to ban cigarette ads, what product will be next on the list?" an Atlanta real estate bro- ker asked, Columnist James J. Kilpat- rick condemned the ban, citing his conviction that "in a free so- ciety, govemment has no business trying to make people 'be Publishers Association, American Newspaper Publishers Associa- tion and Advertising Photogra- phers Association of New York. Within days of the AMA vote, a Tobacco Institute spokes- man was asked to take on AMA chairman William W, Hotch- kiss in opposite columns in USA TODAY. Dr. Hotchkiss claimed a ban "would not strike at the core of the First Amendment." Replied The Institute: "Peo- ple are unlikely to start consult- ing their family doctors for legal advice in the wake of the Amer- ican Medical Association's call for censo.rship of tobacco ad- vertising." SMOKER WINS CASE New York-Alan Wikman asked for his day in court- and won! At issue was an assault against Wikman last year at a chapter meeting of Toastmasters International, where anti-smok- ing activist Sharon Campbell complained about his pipe- smoking and kicked him in the groin. Wikman filed criminal charges against the woman after the attack (see Nov. 1985 Ob- server). They were settled through plea bargaining with the District Attomey early this year when Campbell pled guilty to a disorderly conduct charge. In light of her plea, she won a conditional discharge, a kind of informal probation where, if she commits another crime in the next 12 months, she can be re-sentenced in this case, includ- ing imposition of jail time and a fine. "Naturally, I'm delighted," observed Wikman following the guilty plea, "and hope this serves as a caution to anyone who wishes to take the law into their own hands." Meanwhile, civil complaints against Campbell were pending at press time. PHILIP `fORRIS MAGAZINE/SPRING 1986 21

000G NEWS PUFFS CAMPAIGN GROWS FOR SMOKERS' RIGHTS Readers of the 1986 Winter is- sue of Philip Morris Magazine may remember being introduced to PUFFS, People United For Friendly Smoking, a Georgia- based grass roots organization leading a national crusade for smokers' rights. Little did any- one realize then, that only three months later, PUFFS would be- come a nationally recognized group with chapters sprouting up across the country. "We've been deluged with membership requests from smokers everywhere," says Dean Overall, PUFFS vice president and co-founder. "Mail is coming in almost faster than we can handle it." In fact, Dean and her hus- band Sidney, president of PUFFS, have chartered 138 new PUFFS chapters-from Albany to Minneapolis to Southem Cali- fornia-since the first Philip Morrir Magazine story appeared. They have also become some- what of a media phenomenon. Since January, the Overalls have championed for smokers' rights in interviews with numer- ous newspapers, television shows and radio programs nationwide. Dean appeared on NBC's "Phil Donahue" show on Janu- ary 24, where she was asked to represent the smokers' point of view in a discussion with noted speakers, induding Dr. Robert McAfee, a member of the board of trustees of the AMA; Sam Donaldson, ABC News White House correspondent; and Ber- nard Dushman, assistant dean of the Yale Law School. "Anytime anyone tries to leg- islate against the desires of a substantial number of people, you are in trouble," Dean warned the national television audience, adding "PUFFS is battling to preserve the personal The Overalls rights and individual liberties of the 60 million Americans who choose to smoke." Even Sam Donaldson, ABC's acerbic White House corre- spondent, who has often made Presidents and heads of state tum to jello with his forceful questions, could not rattle Dean. Donahue isn't the only na- tional exposure that PUFFS has received. The organization's views on smokers' rights ap- peared on the February 21 edi- torial page of the Wall Street Journal, in a letter-to-the-editor penned by Sidney. "There are many smokers and non-smokers in the country to- day who are concerned with the restrictive measures already placed and being considered against smokers," the letter stated. "PUFFS' sole purpose is to make sure individual rights are not thrown out with the cig- arette butts." The Overalls have been seen and heard energetically present- ing their arguments on many other television and radio pro- grams around the country. As support for PUFFS continues to swell, Dean and Sidney look to- ward their organization's future goals. A top priority is to organize all their new chapters and make them operable. Then Dean and Sidney will lead their new mem- bers on a letter writing cam- paign. PUFFS does not underes- timate the power of the pen. "We want our members to send a ban-age of letters to their elected officials and newspaper editors," says Dean. "If everyone vocally protests anti-smoking laws before they are passed, law- makers will think twice about proposing such Draconian legis- lation." PUFFS always welcomes new members, and encourages smok- ers concerned about their rights to contact them at: "People United For Friendly Smoking," in care of the Overall Consul- tancy, Inc., Box 1907, St. Si- mons Island, Georgia 31522. The Overalls will continue to charge forward in PUFFS' au- sade to ensure the individual freedoms of smokers. They offer this advice to all smokers who feel endangered of being rele- gated to "second class citizen- ship." "Get your friends together and form a dub. Stand together, write together and never for- get-you're not alone." NOTED SMOKE- WRITER Irish pensman James Joyce, known for his fondness for ciga- rettes, will be immorcalized in bronze next year in Washington, D.C. Joyce, author of Portrait of The Artist As A Young Man, Dublinerr and other world-re- nowned works, is already the subject of a number of sailp- tures-including one that serves as headstone for his grave in Zurich, Switzerland. The Zurich piece features Joyce with a ciga- rette (brand unknown). Most photos of the writer, who was called the greatest writer of the 20th Century by his peers, also show him with the inevitable cigarette. PUTTIN' ON THE RITZ Boston's famed Ritz Carlton Ho- tel has decided that "things were better in the good ol' days" after all. In a decision reflecting "the wishes of customers" as well as the attitude of management the Ritz Carlton has opened a Cigar and Cognac room for its after- dinner customers. The room re- tums visitors to 1927-when famed sports and entertainment ~ stars would stop by for a pull on their favorite cigar, and a sip of the world's best cognac. "Winston Churchill would 22 PHIllP MORRIS MAGAZINEjSPRING 1986

KEEP IN TQllGH CELEBRATING TOBACCO'S LETTERS TO PM MAGAZINE FAMILY Kenly, North Carolina-just off the 1-95 interstate on Route 301-is an unprepossessing sort of place, not the kind of town you'd choose for an important museum. But that's just what the people of Kenly are banding to- gether to do. The just-begun To- bacco Museum of North Carolina (it was started in 1983, but re- mains unfinished) shows travelers motoring through tobacco coun- try the kind of pride that made the eastern part of North Carolina the most productive tobacco land in the world. The museum also gives visitors a glimpse into the past, showing modern ways of harvesting the rich tobacco plant. In addition, the museum sponsors tobacco farm tours for the curious. Appar- ently, the museum is about to hit it big: there were over 1000 visi- tors in the first year, and while many local people were attracred to the exhibit, tourists from as far away as England, Canada and Mexico visited the museum. There are problems. The res- taurant that currently houses the museum has asked that the ex- stop in here just to have a cigar," Patricia Cutler, Ritz Carlton pub- lic relations director told Philip Morris. But Cutler admits that some things have changed forever. hibit vacate the premises. So Kenly folk are asking for dona- tions to build a new museum, one that would include a tobacco farm, an outside shelter, an office and a gift shop. Schoolteacher Su- zanne Bailey figures the museum needs 5200,000 to continue oper- ation, but she's confident, saying that the museum has generated such interest that everyone in Kenly (pop. 1500) is dedicated to seeing it survive. For more information on the Tobacco Museum of North Caro- lina, write to them at Box 88, Kenly, N.C. 27542. Or call: 919- 284-4901. "It used to be that the smokers room was only for men-a kind of inside club," she says, smiling. "Now that's obviously changed. Women are not only allowed in the room-they're actually wel- comed." Does anyone take advantage of the new "liberalized" policy? "Of course," Cutler says brightly, "we have several women who regularly use the room." Customers can choose from 25 brands of the best cigars in Amer- ica, as well as a snifter of cognac. The soft-lit, leather ambiance of the Ritz Carlton's cigar and co- gnac environment is a must-see for anyone in Boston. Dear Philip Morris Magazine Please put us on the mailing list for PHILIP MORRIS MAGA- ZINE, and also please give us the address for the "PUFFS" group. It is very interesting to see the viciousness of the "Non Smokers" and their mentors including the so-called "Surgeon General." Durwardj. Markle, Merritt Island. FL I read that there was a chance of getting this magazine. I love smok- ing Virginia Slims cigarettes, and my husband smokes a pipe. I can't figure our why people are so down on the smoking of cigarettes when some of the same people love to drink alot and don't say a thing about drunken driving, and all the effects alcohol has on peo- ple but just put down cigarettes in every way they can. Mrr. Martha J. Laurted, Delavan, W I was recently exposed to the latest issue of PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE. What an excellent publication. This is the first time ever I have written to a publisher but it is the first time I became this impressed with a magazine. If it is possible to find room for me on your mailing list, I respectfully request that you do. I really would like my very own copy to go over again and again and to show to friends and business acquaintances. Edward Their, Munhall, PA I read in the DETROIT FREE PRESS recently of your new maga- zine and would like to be added to your mailing list. As a former toiler in the fields for Liggett & Myers and as a smoker who is becoming increasingly annoyed by the non-smokers' growing hostilities, I would appreciate some ammo to fire in return and feel your magazine may supply same. IY'illiam R. Thistle 11, Rochester, MI Would you please send us a copy of your magazine. My husband and I both smoke and have for 40 years. We are retired now but unril last year we had our own shoe store. When Oregon passed their dean air act, we put up a sign that said "This entire establishment is a smoking area." And in our business we would much rather wait on a smoker. If we got busy we could set an ashtray beside a smoker and he would have a cigarette and wait calmly. Maxine Moen, Dallas, OR I am taking the time to write you and to tell you that this is a first for my neighbors and me for receiving The PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE, Winter 1986. I am writing also to tell you how much I enjoyed the two pages by you entitled "Rhythms and Riffs and All that Jazz." I love jazz. I just turned sixty-five Jan. 8, 1986. So you know that I've been aware of these great jazz artists. Mr.r. Mary M. Phelps, Xenia, OH , I PHILIP MORRIS MAG 1.ZINE/SPRING 1986 23

PROFESSIONAL SPORTSWOMAN OF THE YEAR LIBBY RIDDLES THE GIRL FROM THE NORTH COVNTRY There's a saying that in Alaska "the men are men. .. and so are the women. " Libby Riddles proz,es thatglamour and guts can go hand in hand. BY TOBY THOMPSON The skull of a killer whale rests on the porch of the red frame house where Libby Riddles is camped in downtown Anchorage, Joe Garnie, Riddles' boyfriend and partner, hauled the skull from the beach near Nome and presented it to friends who own the house-artists who appreciate skulls and other artifacts of the Alaskan bush. The skull is the size of a St. Bernard. Behind the house, in the distance, the Chugach Mountains, massively sculptured in snow, loom to 13,000 feet. A few blocks west, glass-faced skyscrap- ers that are a legacy of Anchorage's waning oil boom rise to what seems a comparable height. It is two days before Iditarod. Libby Rid- dles, the first lady of sled dog racing, is on the phone: "I need some five-foot lengths of chain," she says. "And a bunch of those snaps that won't break." Riddles is nervous, intent. She won't race this year, but Gamie will and Riddles has a hundred last-minute chores to help get him ready. Riddles and Gamie alternate years competing in the Iditarod, racing essentially the same team of up to 18 dogs. Touted by its promoters as "the Last Great Race," Iditarod is a killer of an 1,158-mile endur- ance run from Anchorage to Nome in tem- peratures that often drop to 40 below zero. (The race is named for the Iditarod Trail, an old prospecting route from the gold rush days.) Last year, Susan Butcher-widely pre- dicted as the first woman to win the event- zt scratched when her team was charged by a s moose that killed two dogs and injured 15 W others. Much to everyone's surprise, Riddles Y crossed the finish line a winner, and 550,000 richer. Riddles won after 18 days on the trail, and a courageous foray through a ground blizzard that kept her male counterparts pinned down. The headline in the Anchorage Times read LIBBY DID IT! in the biggest type since statehood, She hopscotched the network news shows, was named Professional Sportswoman of the Year, posed seductively for Vogue, wrote a diary for Sports Illustrated, packaged book and movie deals about her life, and threat- ened to become over-exposed in promotion for outfits as different as Alaska Airlines and Iams dogfood. Alaska has found its symbol for the'80s: a"new" woman who, at 28, stepped from her 19th century life as breeder and racer of sled dogs to the harsh glare of 20th century promotion. "How muchY" Riddles exclaims into the receiver, "I'll do it!" She is speaking with her publicist. Another offer has come through, another chance to lighten her's and her team's burden. Riddles manages a grin. "She's just a good old girl," the publicist has insisted earlier. "Libby doesn't want to become Madonna." But there's a star quality to Riddles at odds with her environment. In this kitchen, her lemon-blond hair is framed by a wall of mounted skulls: moose, bear, sea otter, seal, wolf, and coyote. Her voice is coarse, yet a hot pink sweater and watch band offset this as surely as they do the rough bluejeans she's so obviously at home in. "I liked that Vogue spread," Riddles says, driving through Anchorage. Her Jeep is a "loaner•' and plastered with promotional logos. "It proved you could do it with style," she says. What it is for Riddles is the training of 65 sled dogs in the Eskimo village of Teller, '0 miles north of Nome on the Bering Sea. She shares a trailer with Garnie that lacks running water. The day's chores include hauling wood, wate, and ice (to melt), cooking for the dogs, running them, netting pike and whitefish to feed them, hunting moose and reindeer-and sewing fur hats to sell for cash. "It's a subsistence lifestyle that keeps you both physically and mentally tough," Riddles says. And one that not much in her previous life prepared her for. She was bom in Wiscon- sin, but graduated from high school in St. Cloud, _Minnesota, where her parents were teachers. They were interested in native cul- tures-her father studied the Hopis, and her mother taught the Navajos. "I grew up without much prejudice to other wrrs of people," Riddles notes. At 16, Riddles followed a boyfriend to Alaska, altemaring work in Anchorage with homesteading in the bush, until she took up breeding and racing dogs. "Since I was little, I'd been tryin' to scam on a a-ay to have a lot of anirnals." She ran her first Iditarod in 1980, and again in 1981-then retired to raise the team she'd Rin with in '85. She sedits the ruggedness of her life with the Teller Fskimos as a key factor in her 1985 Iditarod triumph. "They're an incredible race of people, real happy, easy going," she ex- plains. "They can live with so little and face PHILIP MORRIS ~tAG 1ZIIvE SPRING 1986 25

such tough conditions." One of Riddles' principal sponsors in '85 was the Teller bingo group, there when the big sponsors failed to come aboard. At the finish line in '85, Rid- dles quipped: "I'd Iike to thank all the spon- sors who didn't sponsor me. They helped keep me tough." Riddles brakes before an old building in the center of town, splattering snow to claim a space. "Being in this business, if you want to be good, you've got to have corporate spon- sors," she says. "But I've seen some people, where maybe they get a big sponsorship, all of a sudden they don't have to work quite as hard. And they don't do as well in the race. oe and I have to do good to survive. For us it's our life. We don't have another job-we race dogs." She hauls the transmission into park. "I'm definitely in a period of transition. There're a lot of different directions I could go, with endorsements and the movie. But what I really want is a nice big house. I hate to be away from my dogs more than two weeks, max." She grins. "As long as I can continue running them, I'll be happy." This year's pre-race meeting is being held at the Rondy Bingo Palace, a ramshackle joint and who are fiercely committed to preserving, through Iditarod, the spirit of "pre-pipeline" Alaska-watch the champion pass. They are grizzled in full beards and shoulder-length hair, wear bristly long johns beneath their lumberjack shirts, and huge, chambered boots on their feet. The mushers eye Riddles with expressions of mild envy and awe. They know she has the success, but they also know she had the guts in '85 to risk her life to change it, in weather so terrible no one else dared brave it-crossing a partially-open bay, the wind chill at 60 below, in snow that almost froze her dogs' eyes shut. There's been a moment there, 300 miles from the finish, not unlike a metamorphosis: "It was worse than any weather I'd ever been out in," Riddles says. "About 25 feet of visi- ,N-bility, I couldn't see the trail markers, and ~ winds were gusting to 50 miles per hour. ~ That night I climbed into my sled bag to rest, ~ out of the wind. But my clothes were wet. So in this little bitty sled bag I had to get out of hunkered beneath the glass and steel towers of my jacket and big pants. I pulled my sleeping center-city Anchorage like a shoeshine box bag out of its bag, and put on my fur pullover under a brace of expensive loafers. Inside, the and parka. That took almost two hours. It mushers-73 racers who, like Riddles, left was so cold that everything I touched was the lower 48 to start over "with a dean slate," getting my hands damp. So if I wanted to try

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and unzip something, later I'd have to thaw out my hands. It took forever. But once I did get in the sleeping bag with dry clothes, I was able to get some sleep. My dogs looked terri- ble next morning, because they had big hunks of snow and ice sticking to their fur, but they got up friskier than hell. Once I'd crossed that bay, and thought I might win- the next night I was too excited to sleep." The first thing Riddles said, after crossing the finish line, was "If I die now, it'll bc okay." 28 PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SPRING 1986 At the mushers' pre-race meeting, Susan Butcher sits in a far comer, alone. A favorite in '86, she has run the Iditarod seven times, finishing in second place twice. She dresses simply, without Riddles' style. Riddles, her sealskin cap embellished with pearls, huddles with Joe Garnie. They exchange informa- tion-it's 50 below at Galena, she'll get the .44 slugs, his sleeping bag's at the cleaners. Garnie (the mayor of Teller, pop. 250) is a young Eskimo of medium height, built like a linebacker, and with a face split from his eyebrows to his mustache in a grin. "New York~" he inquires of a visitor. "I rode that subway. Last summer. Just to see if I'd get mugged." Privately, he's affirmed that some mushers resent Riddles' notoriety. "It's a macho thing, and the men wonder 'how come we never got all that attention when we won?' But the first to do anything gets the attention. It could have changed Libby-but it hasn't," he says. "Her main goal, I guess, is to get a little more money- Gamie is racing the same dogs as Riddles did, plus three, and the pressure to match her success, in this male-dominant culture, is very re•al. Garnie shrugs it ofF. "Some people are tryin' to get me to feel pressured, but I don't let 'em," he says. "He's definitely pressured," Riddles says. "But he knows what he's doin' in this weather, and I trust him. Hell, I worry more about certain individual dogs than I do about him. Joe was born in a blowin' wind." It is 10 below zero on race day, and at dawn the streets are a din with the howls of 1,000 sled dogs. Seventy-three teams are crowded near the starting line-in an old section of Anchorage, lined with drygoods stores and Eskimo saloons. TV crews jostle for position, as Riddles and Garnie prep for the Libby and Joe Garnie. 2040235336

The start of the Iditarod in Anchorage. Y . start. It's 40 below up-trail, "too cold even for an Eskimo," Gamie jokes. He's predicted an 11-day finish, a record time. His sled is sta- tioned opposite Susan Butcher's, she having drawn 16 and he 17 as starting slots. Butcher attends her team quietly. Across the street, Riddles massages the feet of her dogs, calnung them. They are part Joe Reddington husky, "with a little bit of hound bred in." They are slight, "like marathoners," but wiry and strong. Computerized diets may have improved their nutrition, and technol- ogy streamlined their sleds, but nothing sub- stitutes for personal attention. In addition to her other honors-induding "Libby Riddles Day" proclaimed this year in Alaska, and a congratulatory letter from President Rea- gan-Riddles received the Humanitarian Award for care of her dogs during the Iditarod. She kneels beside them in a red snowsuit and a jacket reading MIDNIGHT EXPRESS-a rock dub that's sponsoring Joe. Both she and Gamie are relaxed, the die are cast. Five nations are represented among the mushers today, and here in the canyons of contemporary Anchorage mill a handful of men and women who shoulder the traditions of one of the world's least-disturbed wilder- nesses. Their's is the heritage, as T'un Jones has written in The Last Great Race, of "centu- ries of Eskimo and Indian culture, the mail drivers and freight haulers, the gold rush, the ability to survive in a rugged land, and the frontier spirit...." Their sleds may be decaled with sponsors' logos, the chamber of commerce may be counting on them to boost tourism in a f3agging economy, but all that will be forgotten in a few days-when the wind furls their parkas, the Walkmen crank ~ up high with (as Gamie and Riddles prefer) ~ some Bob Marley and the Wailers, the sky is ~ china blue, the mountains are sugarloafed in ~ snow above the Bering Sea, and the dogs seem to trot with that reggae beat. Riddles is trying to explain it to a reporter: "There's ... just a lot of big country out here," she tries. But she's riding anchor with Joe the first 20 miles of the race, to help slow the nervous dogs, and she's impatient. Susan Butcher has already left. "It's exciting for me to be in a spot that's still in its natural state of existence," Riddles shouts above the ream. "And there's a certain type of people here... people who came up for a lot of the same reasons I did. Because they wanted to be somewhere different, anci they wanted a little bit of space. Plus the freedom to live the kind of life they wanted to live." Then Garnie gives the signal, and she and the team pull out. Postscript: Eleven days, 15 hours, and six minutes later, Susan Butcher crossed the fin- ish line a winner, in record time. She finished 56 minutes ahead of Joe Gamie, in second place, who led the race until a wrong tum carried him 40 miles off course. He overtook the lead, but was too exhausted to maintain it. -Toby Thompson PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SPRING 19&6 29

JEFFERSON COUNTRY Patriot, President, Tobacco Fanner Thomas Jefferson left his unique mark on the Virginia countryside Monticello, Jefferson'r mountaintop home, in the first light oja spring sunrise. PHOTOGRAPHS BI' ROBERT LLENi'ELLIN 30 PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SPRING 1986

JEFFERSON'S PRItiTATE RETREAT: WHERE TOBACCO WAS KING Thomas Jefferson loved Monti- cello--the home he designed on an oak-bedazzled hill outside Charlottesville, Virginia. Every detail of the house, grounds, and gardens, demonstrates the hu- mane and elegant mind of our third President. During his active political career, as author of the Declaration of Independence, Secretary of State, and President of the United States, Jefferson could only spend weeks or months of any year at Monticello. But he moved there after he left the White House in March 1809, and lived there until his death on the Fourth of July in 1826. Less well known is the house- Poplar Forest-he designed for his tobacco farm several miles to the south. Cotton wears out the land. South- em plantation owners discovered this fact too late. Literally thou- Jefferson's Poplar Forest. Poplar Forest is still alive. A complete restoration is almost fin- ished, thanks to the Lynchburg, Virginia-based Jefferson Poplar Forest Fund. Poplar Forest-Jef- ferson's unknown experiment to save the Union-will be a living testament to the days when to- bacco rhould have been king. The most vivid picture of Jeffer- son at Poplar Forest is in the jour- nal of George Flower, an English gentleman farmer who toured the young United States in 1816: "I found Mr. Jefferson at his Pop- lar Forest estate, in the western part of the State of Virginia. His house was built after the fashion of a French chateau, Octagon rooms, floors of polished oak, lofty ceilings, large mirrors beto- sands of them went bankrupt try- ing to raise fourth and fifth gen- eratioh cotton in tidewater Virginia and North Carolina in the early 1800s. Thomas Jefferson, with his sci- entific approach to farming and growing, knew that cotton wasn't suited to the light topsoil of up- land western Virginia. So he turned to raising tobacco instead. In 1806, the same year Monti- cello was being completed, Jeffer- son began building Poplar Forest, a house and experimental farm about five miles away. Writing about this elegantly proportioned building, he said: "When fin- ished, it will be the best dwelling house in the state, except that of Monticello; perhaps preferable to Jefferron's "retreat" at Poplar Forest. that, as more proportioned to the faculties of a private citizen." Jefferson kept a number of workers busy planting and tend- ing the large grounds and sur- rounding fields, testing different strains of plants and vegetables, and keeping detailed results of harvests. He found the broad- leafed tobacco plant particularly suitable to the upland soil. When The rich farmlands of Poplar Forest, properly planted and harvested, it actually retutned necessary nutri- ents to the thin soil. In his last years, the elderly Jef- ferson was fearful of what he so eloquently called "a firebell in the night"-the American Revolu- tion's great unsolved problem of slavery. He suggested that Vir- ginia's cotton planters tum to a less labor-intensive crop, like to- bacro. Jefferson dearly under- stood that the "cotton-is-king" mentality of the southern aristoo- racy would lead to its eventual demise. This came sooner than later: barely forty years after Jef- ferson's death, Ulysses S. Grant accepted Robert E. Lee's surren- der in the courthouse at Appo- matrox-just a short drive from kened his French taste, acquired by his long residence in France. Mr. Jefferson's figure was rather majestic: tall (over six feet), thin, and rather high-shouldered: man- ners simple, kind, and courteous. His dress, in color and form, was quaint and old-fashioned, plain and neat-a dark pepper-and-salt coat, cut in the old quaker fash- ion, with a single row of large metal buttons, knee-breeches, gray-worsted stockings, shoes fas- tened by large metal buckles- such was the appearance of Jeffer- son when I first made his ac- quaintance, in 1816. His two grand-daughters-Misses Ran- dolph-well educated and ac- complished young ladies, were staying with him at the tirne." One of those same grand-daugh- ters described the charms of Pop- lar Forest for the elder statesman in a letter written in 1856: The house at Poplar Forest was very pretty and pleasant. It was of brick, one story in front, and, ow- ing to the falling of the ground, two in the rear. It was an exact octagon, with a centre-hall twenty feet square, lighted from above. This was a beautiful room. A ter- race extended from one side of the house: there was a portico in front connected by a vestibule with the center room, and in the rear a verandah, on which the drawing- room opened, with its windows to the floor.. . . It was furnished in the sim- plest manner, but had a very tasty air; there was nothing common or second-rate about any part of the establishment, although there was no appearance of expense. As soon as thq house was habitable, my grand-father began to take the ladies of his family, generally two at a time, with him whenever he went. His first visit of a fort- night or three weeks was in the spring-the second, of about six weeks, in the early or late au- tumn. We have staid as much as two months at a time. Mr. Jefferson greatly enjoyed these visits. The crowd at Monri- cello of friends and strangers, of stationary or every-varying guests, the coming and going, the inces- sant calls upon his own time and attention, the want of leisure that such a state of things entailed as a necessary consequence, the bustle and hurry of an almost perpetual round of company, wearied and harassed him in the end, what- ever pleasure he may have taken, and it was sometimes great, in the society and conversation of his guests. At Poplar Forest he found in a pleasant home, rest, leisure, power to carry on his favorite pur- suits-to think, to study, to read-whilst the presence of part of his family took away all charac- i ter of solitude from his retreat. 34 PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SPRING 1986

SMALL WORLDS UNIQUE MUSEUMS CAN ENRICH YOUR TRAVELS There are museums for every in- terest, from aircraft and arctic ex- plorers to dogs and dolls, from fly fishing and forestry to motorcy- des and mushrooms, from rail- roads and steamships to weaving and weightlifting. It is the genius of a good museum to draw you into its spell, to tell you of a world you hardly knew existed, to edu- cate through enthusiasm.. . . For almost a year, Nancy Frazier traveled more than 12,000 miles looking for the small, strange and special museums that dot our landscape. She found over 144 of them in the northeast alone, specializing in anything and ev- erythuig, including cranberries, fly fishing, glass, fire fighting, baseball, holography, soup, nuts, the Ukraine, cartoon art, trotting racers, police work, potatoes, the Erie Canal, firearms, golf, rail- roads, the U.S. Navy, duck de- coys, the Broadway theatre, but- tons, carousel animals, coins, Colt firearms, birds, carved birds, dolls, antique toys, Arctic explor- ers, aircraft, dogs, and dinosaurs. ... to name just a few. Enthusiasm is the key to each of these museums, and to Nancy Frazier's book Special Museums of the Northeast, published by the Globe Pequot Press, Chester, Connecticut 06412. These are a few of our favorites: 1. American Museum of Fly Fishing Route 7A, Box 42 Manchester, Vermont 05254 Hours: M-F, 10-4. Closed on holidays. (802) 362-3300 Set among the rolling hills of Vermont, the American Museum Postcard from the Babe Ruth Nomeplace/Maryland Baseball Hall of Fame, Baltimore, Maryland. of Fly Fishing is living proof that Americans will save anything, even their favorite flys! The Muse- um's date book goes back to 1835-when the first trout fly was deposited for viewing. The collection was first systematized in 1893, for Chicago's famous Co- lumbian Exposition. For the non-fisherman, fly-ty- ing undoubtedly seems unin- teresting-at least at first-but for the hobbyist, fly-tying is an art, and numerous contests are held throughout America yearly. Here in Vermont, some of the best examples are contained un- der glass. In addition, the mu- seum contains some tackle from America's most famous anglers: Ernest Hemingway, Oliver Wen- dell Holmes, Herbert Hoover, Daniel Webster, and Bing Crosby. For those who prefer the real thing, there's the nearby Batten- kill River, famous for its large rainbow trout. 2. Shelbume Museum Route 7 Shelbume, Vermont 05482 (802) 985-3344 Hours: 9-5 daily in the summer Other hours limited Weather vanes, quilts, figure- heads, carriages and sleighs-this is one of the finest collections of native Americana in one museum anywhere in the nation. You'll have to spend at least a day-there are over 40 buildings that house the collection, which indudes duck decoys (the crafting of which takes enormous wood- working talent), and hat boxes (that can be as beautiful as the hats themselves). The museum's centerpiece is the collection of quilts-experts say it's the finest in the world. And while you're at Shelburne, don't miss the 525-foot-long mu- seum of circus posters. 3. Computer Museum 300 Congress Street Museum Wharf Boston, Massachusetts (617) 426-2800 Hours: W; Sat., Sun. 11-6, Th., Fri., 11-9 A museum for computers was a new task and here it is, at the end of Boston's Museum Wharf. The museum was begun in 1979 by the Digital Equipment Cor- poration. It has since become a nonprofit institution to which the major computer companies do- nate equipment and money. It all seems to work: the displays are fascinating, hands-on examples of the real things, induding the larg- est computer ever built, the U.S. Air Force's SAGE air defense computer built from the 1950s. PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE,%SPRING 1986 35

Postcard from the Potato Museum, Washington, D,C SAGE takes up an entire top floor in the museum. 4. Whaling Museum 18 Johnny Cake Hill New Bedford, Massachusetts (617) 997-0046 Hours: M-Sat. 9-5, Sun. 1-5 This museum will take you back to the days of Herman Mel- ville and Moby Dick, when whal- ing was one of the largest, and most successful, of American in- dustries. Located at the top of a hill in the most important whal- ing city in America, the Museum includes a full-size replica of a whaling ship, and a whaling long- boat that seated forty men (har- poons and all). Included in the fascinating exhibits: paintings, sculptures, prints and even ships' figureheads from the days of whaling. Also of interest: a I/a- mile-long painting called Purring- ton and Russell's Original Pan- orama of a lY~haling Voyage Round the W,`orld. 5. Salem Witch Museum 191/z Washington Square North Salem, Massachusetts (617) 744-1692 Hours: daily 10-4:30, July, August 10-6:30 This museum is not for the squeamish, but is definitely a fas- cinating exhibit on the times of the famous Salem witch trials. Every half hour in a darkened hall a series of tableaux and a voice- over narration trace the origin of the hysterical frenzy that gripped the town in 1692. 6. Indian Motocycle Museum 33 Hendee Street Springfield, Massachusetts 01139 (413) 737-2624 Hours: M-Sun. 1-5 Did you know the first motor- cycle was made in 1901 by the Indian Motoiycle Company of Springfield, Massachusetts? Until the company ceased operation in the early 1950s, it was renowned as one of the finest motorcycle manufacturers in the world-its cycle had only 5 moving parts and got 75 miles to the gallon. The museum contains a num- ber of exhibits on motorcycles, in- duding the first motorcycle ever manufacrured, in 1885 in Ger- many by Gottlieb Daimler, In- cluded in this collection is the largest grouping of toy motorcy- des anywhere. Whi.le you're in Springfield, you can also stop by the Basket- ball Hall of Fame (1150 West Columbus Avenue) and the Postcard of the doll collection at the Shelburne Museum, Shelburne, Vermont. - A V 16 lA ` ` ` ~il %f y .' - 0 - . -ry3.!Ittb" MtUi[fi.r "r JH! _ nrsdrt ~{WUru4~nMf4l/- s ~.. ~ . --. ~~rrar:v a Postcard of the quilt collection at the Shelburne Museum. Postcard from the Mummers Museum, Philadelphia, Pennrylvania. 36 PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SPRING 1986

Postcard from the Shelburne Museum, Shelburne, Vermont. Po.rtcard from the Salem Witch Museum, Salem, MaJlRchuJettJ. Postcard from the Barnum Museum, Bridgeport, Connecticut. Springfield Armory National Historic Site (One Armory Square) where they made the famous Springfield repeating ri- fles. This is one of the most enjoy- able and most important cities in New England. '. Dog Museum 51 Madison Avenue New York, New York 10010 (212) 696-8350 Hours: Tues-Sat. 10-5, Wed. until 7 One of the oddest, and most interesting, collections in the na- tion, the Dog Museum celebrates our feelings for Man's Best Friend-paintings, drawings and other exhibits on dogs. The Mu- seum is supervised by the Ameri- can Kennel Club and the collec- tion is still growing. In a city famous for its huge art museums the Dog Museum gives a nice touch of home. 9. National Association of Watch and Clock Collectors Museum 514 Poplar Street, Box 33 Columbia, Pennsylvania (717) 684-8261 Hours: M-F 9-4, Sat. 9-5 More than 1,500 docks and 3,000 watches will answer any question you have about what makes a dock tick. The intricacies of v.-atch-making-the enor- mously detailed work of making sure every moving part is in its right place-are demonstrated in a special exhibition. Lancaster County (the home of the mu- seum) was once the center of dock manufacturing in the United States. And if you're in Lancaster, be sure to take in the Pennsvlva- nia Dutch Amish countryside to the west, as well as a side trip to the small farming community of Gettysburg-famous for the 1863 battle that turned the tide of the civil war. 8. Margaret Woodbury Strong Museum 1 Manhattan Square Rochester, New York 14607 (716) 263-2700 Hours: Tues.-Sat. 10-5, Sun, 1-5 This is one of the largest doll museums in the country, and houses some of the most valuable dolls in the world. It also contains an odd assortment of knick- knacks-paperweights, vases, doorknobs, advertising cards, sewing machines and toys. But it's the dolls that boggle the mind. No matter how well pre- pared you may be to see the vast collection, the sheer volume of ninery-two cases filled with dolls, thousands of them, is an astonish- ing sight. This museum is a must-see. 10. Babe Ruth Birthplace/ Maryland Baseball Hall of Fame 216 Emory Street Baltimore, Maryland (301) 727-1539 Hours: 10-5, April through October, 10-4, November through March. Everything you'd want to know about "The Babe"- America's greatest baseball player, as told through video tapes, re- cordings and pictures. Great for the kids. While in Baltimore, check out the impressive B&O Railroad Museum, just two blocks away-housing a collec- tion of railroad memorabilia that cannot be duplicated, induding an HO gauge train of the B&O's railroad yards at Paw Paw, West Virginia. Fascinating. PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SPRING 1986 37

Progress has come to Lookingglass, Oregon (Pop. 42), and the meter is running.., ookingglass, Oregon, has a population of forry-two. Just in case you don't know where Lookingglass, Oregon, is, there's a sign in town to straighten that out. Lookingglass is eight miles from Brockway, nine miles from Roseburg, and ten miles from Tenmile. All right. Now, Lookingglass has aspirations, even as your town and mine. It has a phone booth, as of last year. It has a manhole cover, the pride of the town. But the thing that brought us to Lookingglass, the thing that has every other town in Douglas County bu"' a with excitement and ill-concealed envy, is the latest acquisition. Lookingglass has a parking me- ter. It is a fine parking meter, shaded by a locust tree, offering twelve minutes for a penny or one hour for a nickel, ticking away serenely in front of a forty- acre field. It's hard to overesti- mate how proud Lookingglass is of its parking meter. People ride by to look at it. Some people put a penny in it even when they have nothing to park. Proudest of all is Norm Nib- blett, who runs the 120-year-old Lookingglass General Store and is Mayor of the town. K[lRnLT: What made you de- cide that Lookingglass needed a parking meter? NoRum NtsstFrr: Well, for many reasons, but I looked out there, and there was a power drill with three horses and then a guy drove up his pickup and parked out there, and I said, "Lwk at that mess out there; you know, we need some kind of traffic con- trol." Right? So I was giving back change, and a guy said, "Let me have some nickels for the parking meters in Roseburg," and I said, "Hey, you know, we should have a parking me- ter." So we finagled around and started looking and finally we got one. KuttAi.T: Has it yielded a lot of money so far? NiBBLETT: Well, not a lot of money, no. But for a parking meter, figure sixty cents, let's see, a penny a minute, that's sixty cents an hout Six eight, four dollars, what is that> Twenty-three dollars. To make a long story short, twenty-three dollars. Kutt,A.LT: What are you going to do with the money? NtsB=: Ah, the money is being used for civic improve- ment. We need so many things in the downtown area, and, be- cause we've got rings on the parking meter for the horses, and basically a lot of horses use it, I thought that now we need a water trough. If I.ookingglass has a parking meter, can a streetlight be far behind> The possibilities of progress in Lookingglass boggle the mind. We sat there with Norm Nibblett for a couple of hours, feeding the meter and chewing the fat, and reflecting what a beautiful thing is munic- ipal pride-until, finally, it was time to go. 2040235346 ~

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