Esquire Asks Readers to Review Definitions of Manhood

Mainstream men’s magazines have long lived in a state of uneasy ambivalence. Their core content has leaned to hard-drinkin’, lady-killin’, dog-lovin’, bon mot -babbling, gentlemanly hetero-masculinity.

But then there are those ads and fashion spreads, with male models who sometimes seem just a bit too handsome, too tasteful in their accessories, too, well . . .

It was probably enough to send some men scrambling to the sanctuary of Guns & Ammo.

Times, however, have changed. The December Esquire steps forward with two stories that may make men examine their definition of manhood.

Forgive editor Terry McDonell for beginning his introduction to the issue with a defensive swagger: “. . . It is no secret that men like to look at beautiful women, just as they enjoy raucous journalism and great fiction,” he writes, ignoring the possibility that a few male Esquire readers are more likely to ogle the picture on the next page, a perfume ad featuring a naked man .

McDonell recovers nicely, though.

“Although the gay-rights movement has awakened the American consciousness,” he writes, “at least two closets remain largely shut: the military and Hollywood. And few so-called men’s magazines have dared to peek into either.”

Esquire looks intently into both.

Jennet Conant’s profile of Tom Hanks focuses on this straight actor’s portrayal of a gay attorney in the forthcoming film, “Philadelphia.” It’s interesting to watch Hanks squirm through the no-win interviews to which Conant subjects him.

Does he sound PC in telling her that the godfathers of his sons are gay? What’s behind his “unctuous” proclamation: “I have never had sex with a man.”

The anxiety is multilayered. Everyone involved with the film, while pretending to be above concerns about how straight movie-goers will react, seems far too concerned with what “the gay community” might do if “Philadelphia” doesn’t conform to its expectations.

In any case, readers will forget Conant’s froth two paragraphs into Chip Brown’s “The Accidental Martyr.”

Brown’s novella-length article chronicles the lives of Navy radioman Allen R. Schindler and airman Terry M. Helvey.

Schindler was gay. Helvey is a homophobe. Both were assigned to the same aircraft carrier. One night in 1992, Helvey and a companion from the carrier followed Schindler into a public restroom in a park in Japan and beat him so savagely he looked as if he’d been killed by a stampede of horses.

Brown examines how Schindler’s mother became an unlikely gay-rights hero, and how her son’s death became the rallying point of a powerful cause.

But the more compelling and sobering story here concerns how certain aspects of America create, tolerate--perhaps even encourage--bigotry. All this scrutiny may well be a sign that American men--even men’s magazine editors--are becoming sexually secure, hence sexually tolerant.

Still, Esquire doesn’t want to give the wrong impression. Is it coincidence that this issue also features a photo essay on what happens when a (female!) fashion model walks topless down Fifth Avenue, and a fine, mildly titillating tale by a (female!) journalist who spends three weeks as a virtually nude, utterly lewd dancer at a New Orleans strip joint?

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Required Reading: “Are Opinions Male?” is the title of an essay in the Nov. 29 New Republic.

Readers who go in prepared to dismiss the essay as “spunky” or “disarming,” will get their pretty little heads handed to them on a platter by author Naomi Wolf, who clearly knew that the subject would be a lightening rod and prepared accordingly.

Wolf, who, coincidentally, just married New Republic executive editor David Shipley, begins her assault on the low numbers of female contributors to various publications in 1992:

* New Republic, 14%.

* Harper’s, 20%.

* The Nation, 23%.

* Atlantic Monthly, 33%.

* Washington Monthly, 33 women to 108 men.

* National Review, 55 female bylines to 505 male.

Most major newspapers and television pundit shows did as poorly or far worse.

Wolf goes on to offer an intricate analysis of the complex reasons why this disparity occurs and to argue eloquently that it must and can be reversed. The essay’s main fault is its easy assumption that the women who do charge into the never-ending brawl of public opinion are beaten down mainly because they are women. In fact, it’s human nature for the kings or queens of the opinion hill, as well as those scrambling up, to greet all rivals--especially aggressive neophytes--with an enthusiastic kick in the teeth.

Wolf concludes by urging her sisters to “steal a right that has heretofore been defined as masculine: the right to be in love with the sound of one’s own voice.”

She certainly is that. But Wolf presents her ideas so convincingly here that no competing pundit will dare to take such a cheap shot.

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Newsstand News: Open any hip-hop magazine and you’re likely to be staring down the barrel of a handgun, assault rifle or Uzi. They feature more guns than Soldier of Fortune--in the ads, the photo essays and even the fashion pages.

But now Darryl James, editor-in-chief of Rap Sheet, has banned the glorification of weaponry from his publication’s pages.

“As an African American, it has been my experience that black youth are greatly influenced by hip-hop artists, their lifestyles and behavior,” he said in a press release. “I believe that ads which gratuitously appear to advocate violence with automatic weaponry have no place in a magazine (for) urban teen readers.” James is urging The Source, Vibe, and Rap Pages to join the ban.

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Shredder Fodder: Did President Clinton father a child with a Little Rock prostitute? Anyone who can prove he didn’t is entitled to $1 million from Slick Times magazine. Most of the articles in this rabidly anti-Clinton quarterly are pure satire.

But publisher/editor Michael Dalton Johnson claims to be deadly serious about his fall issue story alleging Clinton’s paternity.

The same allegation surfaced briefly just before the election, Johnson says. “The media pot bubbled weakly, but could not be brought to a boil.” Johnson is trying hard to get that boil going now. But his story ain’t gonna do it.

Johnson names the hotel where the encounter allegedly occurred, the brand of cognac Clinton supposedly drank, and the price he supposedly paid for the hooker’s services--but he provides no sourcing or documentation.

Despite a footnote claiming that the reportage here is backed up by triplicate sourcing, videotapes, and court records, the article is remarkably thin journalistic gruel.