The True Story of the Original Beefcake Calendar

Back in 1987, I made my motion picture debut in was an extra in “Campus Man,” a comedy filmed largely on the campus of Arizona State University while I was a student there. I’ve written about the experience before -- I spent about 10 hours filming a pool scene that went until roughly 4 in the morning, only to discover that I’m not actually visible in the finished movie.

What I didn’t fully appreciate at the time was just how closely the film was connected to a real bit of ASU history.

I knew “Campus Man” was inspired by an actual all-male pinup calendar, which I later learned was created by ASU student Todd Headlee and five friends in 1980. Each chipped in $1,000 to produce the first edition, the 1981 “Men of ASU,” featuring 12 male ASU students.

And apparently they knew their market. A 1982 Time magazine article described Arizona State as a “Sunbelt country club,” where modeling agents regularly scouted the abundance of good-looking students. (I can vouch for the abundance.) The first 5,000 copies of “Men of ASU” quickly sold out.

What I didn't know is that the venture also produced some unexpected complications. In 1981, ASU football player Scott Lewis, who had appeared in the calendar and subsequently took professional modeling jobs, was declared ineligible after his modeling work was found to conflict with NCAA rules, causing him to lose his scholarship. 

According to the State Press, the campus newspaper I later reported for, Lewis said the athletic department had initially told him his modeling would not jeopardize his eligibility.

Scott Lewis lost his football scholarship but gained a modeling career.

That real-life episode became the inspiration for “Campus Man.” In the film, the calendar jeopardizes the amateur standing of its star model, champion diver Brett Wilson -- echoing what had happened to Lewis.

Meanwhile, Headlee -- himself Mr. April in the first calendar -- bought out his original partners, borrowed money and spent $5,200 on an ad in Playgirl for the 1982 edition. The gamble paid off, generating some 10,000 orders from around the world. After graduating, he loaded calendars into his van and hawked them at colleges in 19 states, eventually selling 27,000 copies at $4.95 apiece.

As the calendar's popularity grew, so did its scope. What began as “Men of ASU” evolved into “Campus Men USA,” with models recruited beyond Arizona State and the calendar marketed to a national audience. By the 1983 edition, it was no longer simply a collection of ASU students, but a broader assortment of college-age models from around the country.

A few years later, Headlee's entrepreneurial story made its way to Hollywood. “Campus Man” fictionalized the circumstances, with John Dye (RIP) playing Todd Barrett, a business student who needs $10,000 to stay in school and comes up with the idea of producing a beefcake calendar featuring male athletes to raise the money. 

Steve Lyon plays his reluctant star model, diver Brett Wilson, with Kim Delaney, Kathleen Wilhoite, Miles O'Keeffe (whose turn as Tarzan in 1981 didn't exactly encourage me to be straight) and Morgan Fairchild rounding out the cast.

Lights, camera, action: The Mona Plummer Aquatic Complex. Let me know if you see me!

Morgan Fairchild means business 

Steve Lyon stole the film as diver Brett Wilson

Which brings me to the reason for this post: After years of wondering about the calendars at the heart of this tale -- quaint as it all seems by today's OnlyFans standards -- I recently came across the complete 1983 “Campus Men USA” edition, along with the cover photo from 1982. 

See them all -- the real calendar men behind the movie I spent one very long night trying to be in -- plus an interview with its then-straight(!) creator BELOW.

Wish You Were Here

 

I recently posted that Aug. 29 should have been our friend David Charlebois's 64th birthday, had he not been the first officer on American Airlines Flight 77 on 9/11.

Twenty-five years seems hard to believe, until you think about all the ways the world has changed in that time. The one thing that remains consistent, however, is this: We miss him.  

🙏

Learn more about David and the other gay heroes of that dark day HERE.

Queens for a Day

Just home from nearly 12 hours of rain-soaked action at the U.S. Open. I'll post more when I have time to go through my photos, but for now it's time to dry out!

 

Love All

 

Although we're still planning our annual all-day pilgrimage to the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center on Tuesday, my guy and I decided to splurge on (the best I've ever had) tickets for last night's mixed doubles extravaganza. 

While the new exhibitionistic format has been ripped to shreds, we ended up having a blast. 

First up was Gael Monfils and Elina Svitolina against Fabio Cobolli and Belinda Bencic, who I guess have played together before in Indian Wells. It was a thriller, but the French-Ukrainian duo ended up losing in a match tiebreak, derailing their chances of becoming what I would imagine would be the first married couple to win a major in the Open era.

That was followed by Jakub Mensik and Karolina Muchova against Andrey Rublev and Mirra Andreeva, which was another nailbiter with both teams have match point before the Czech duo prevailed.

In the final, which was played moments later, Mensik and Muchova overcame some erratic play to topple the Italian-Swiss duo, 6-3, 1-6, [10-6] in the only match that featured traditional sets, but still a match tiebreak. 

It was great to see gay tennis icon and current USTA president Brian Vahaly on hand to hand out the trophies, where Muchova joked that in the end it was her team's "matching outfits" that made the difference!

And even better, was getting to celebrate my three-year wedding anniversary with this sweet man, whom I would not have met without the sport we both love! xo

The Bitterest Pill

Two weeks ago, when a daily pain pill (Celecoxib) was added to my morning routine following shoulder surgery, I broke down and bought one of those pill organizers like my parents have. 

I felt smug knowing that none of the medications -- omeprazole (acid reflux), escitalopram (social anxiety), The Rosacea Pill(TM)/doxycycline (vanity) and a multivitamin (I don't really believe in them, but it makes my mother-in-law happy) -- were for anything particularly age-related.

Then it dawned on me that I was using the contraption because I can't remember whether I'd taken my meds each day, and my smugness went right out the door.

Meme Spirited

 

True. And then Mom ripped your accolades up!

Summer Book Report

Hello, page slaves!

I've been a busy reader since I last checked in, so let's get right to it:

Polished off seven more books that have been gathering dust forever.

I was more than a bit surprised that of them, the one I enjoyed most was "Living History" by Hillary Rodham Clinton, which was a 36th(!) birthday present from my late friend Larry Brickman. 

As you've probably gathered, I've completely shut down on the political front, which has left an enormous but completely necessary void in my life. But revisiting the subject -- even at a time that was fraught with partisan bullshit at the highest levels (poor Vince Foster) -- somehow felt good, knowing its worst moments still predated the arrival of neo-fascism via an elevator. And of course, the woman herself. It was like a 600-page reminder that we did not deserve her. (Oh, what could have been!) 

Some quick thoughts on the others:

"Truman Capote: In Which Various Friends, Enemies, Acquaintances and Detractors Recall His Turbulent Career" (1997) edited by George Plimpton, a birthday present from my friend Nina

Lacked anything revealing or juicy.

"The Berlin Stories" (1945) by Christopher Isherwood, which I bought 25 years ago in Paris

Maybe I expected too much, but I was underwhelmed. 

"The First Man-Made Man: The Story of Two Sex Changes, One Love Affair, and a Twentieth-Century Medical Revolution" (2007) by Pagan Kennedy, a gift from a New York Times colleague

The beginning was fascinating, but then the subject turned into a religious hermit and I lost all interest, proving that trans people can be just as boring as anyone else.

"I Look Divine" (1987) by Christopher Coe, a gift in the 1980s from my brother Bill

A clever idea that largely misses the mark.

 "Wonder Bread and Ecstasy: The Life and Death of Joey Stefano" (1996) by Charles Isherwood, which I believe I received as a review copy

Drugs are boring and other than the cover photo, so is this. P.S. Did learn that we have Chi Chi La Rue to blame for many of the worst things about porn today.

and

"Tasteful Nudes ... and Other Misguided Attempts at Personal Growth and Validation" (2012) by Dave Hill, which was recommended to me by Kathy Valentine when she and I were both working on our own books

Had some truly hilarious moments, but probably best for existing fans. Having never heard of this person -- and never since -- I didn't have enough built-in good will to appreciate the 95% that wasn't hilarious -- and the funny parts weren't enough to make a convert out of me.

What's new?

"Earth to Moon" (2024) by Moon Unit Zappa

Being the "Valley Girl" that I am, I expected to lap this one up. But for reasons that are unclear to me, something about this entire story rubbed me the wrong way. If accurately portrayed, her mother does sound like a piece of work. But I'm always skeptical of stories where the narrator always seems to come across wrongly victimized -- have you heard Saint Joyce DeWitt talk about her time on "Three's Company"? -- so not sure what else to say except: It's a good book but I don't know what my fucking problem is.

"High on Arrival" (2009) by Mackenzie Phillips

Like most fans, I was mortified when this was released. But a co-worker suggested I finally rip off the band-aid and I'm glad I did. (I keep saying people don't live lives like this anymore, and Mack is definitely in the last batch!) Damian and I are watching "One Day at a Time" in its entirety now, so will be interesting to see some of it play out on-screen.

"Happiness Included" (2026) by Eve Plumb

I've long realized that 99% of the time, actors are cast to basically play themselves. What this book reveals is that Eve Plumb is Jan Brady, and all the "I've learned to embrace that that's what I'm known for" platitudes can't hide that she's a total pill.

"Out Came the Sun" (2015) by Mariel Hemingway

I'd already seen the harrowing documentary about the "Hemingway curse" Mariel produced a number of years ago, yet was surprised how much more I learned and enjoyed her written take. Left me wanting to give her a hug.

"A Star Is Bored" (2020) by Byron Lane

This is one of the first novels I have read in ages -- it was a recommendation from my pal Chip -- and I thoroughly enjoyed it. The author is a former personal assistant to Carrie Fisher and swears this isn't a roman a clef, but readers may still wonder.

"A Moveable Feast" (1964) by Ernest Hemingway

Read this because Mariel said it was her favorite book by her grandfather. On paper it sounded great -- a memoir about his early years as a struggling writer in Paris among the Lost Generation -- but it felt disjointed and unfinished, despite many posthumous attempts to make it feel otherwise.

"One Gay American" (2013) by Dennis Milam Bensie 

Dennis contacted me when this came out looking for a little blog love. A mere 13 years later I am here to tell the world that this should be required reading for "queer" youth today, who have no fucking clue what it was like to grow up gay in the late 20th century. I've since learned there was a precursor to this, "Shorn: Toys to Men," which chronicles two pivotal parts of the author's life (childhood sexual abuse and paraphilia in extremis), which I wish he'd at least mentioned for those of us new to him. If you're reading this, Dennis, would love a copy of the out-of-print "Shorn," which I will gladly write up in 2039.

"Notes to John" (2025) by Joan Didion

Another recommendation from my competitive reading colleague. As a Didion memoir fan, this was a great complement to "The Year of Magical Thinking" and especially "Blue Nights." It was by no means required reading, but a quick one for those who would like to know a little bit more. 

Listen Up!

A friend alerted me to Elisabeth Egan's NYT piece called "Stellar Celebrity Memoirs Read by Their Authors," and I would like to suggest three additions:

"Inside Out" (2019) by Demi Moore 

"Stories I Only Tell My Friends" (2011) by Rob Lowe

"Karma" (2024) by Boy George

Having grown up with Demi, Rob and Boy, each of their memoirs felt like reflections on events that had also happened to me. And while Boy's got a little bogged down with some later-in-life reality TV stuff, I found myself completely mesmerized listening to Demi (the older sister I always wanted), Rob (a surrogate for my older brothers who never shared much) and Boy, the obvious homo you watched through your fingers as a teen, half admiring and half fearing exposure by association. 

Note: I could have done without learning that Dayton-born Lowe pronounces height as if were spelled like width -- the dreaded "heighth" -- I thought only Michiganders were that dumb! Fortunately he never references any of his cousints. 

I was stunned by Demi's childhood -- and how off the rails her relationship with Ashton Kutcher left her. And Rob's "Zelig" existence through life would almost be hard to believe, if I didn't firmly believe that doors "miraculously" open for ridiculously beautiful people. It's called pretty privilege for a reason! Boy George comes across exactly as you would expect -- sassy and combative but ultimately harmless -- and thank God this was recorded before his new smile led to the severe lisp that's heard on the new documentary about Culture Club. Yithkes! 

Right now I'm revisiting Michael Ausiello's "Spoiler Alert: The Hero Dies," which I got to page 190 upon its release in 2017 before having to stop in the months after my brother's cancer-related death. 

Needless to say, I had to restart, but was tickled to find this photo of my now-husband taken when I first started the book on a weekend visit to our friend Christopher and Augusten's house in Connecticut.

And here is the "bookmark" I found in the Hillary Clinton book, a sweet photo-booth excursion with my ex (Bernard/Michael) back in 2003. 

On the Mend

Thanks to everyone for their well wishes on my recent shoulder surgery. It's Friday now and my recovery is going smoothly. Still a lot of pain if I put my range of motion to the test. But I started physical therapy yesterday -- and am even working -- so everything is looking good. Here's hoping I am new and improved soon!

P.S. What more could I ask for? 

Heads (and Shoulder) Up

So it's the crack of dawn here in Manhattan, and I am in a car headed to a surgery center on the Upper East Side to have my right shoulder operated on -- more specifically, a right shoulder arthroscopy with debridement, distal clavicle excision and subacromial decompression.

I've been experiencing pain for months now -- the exact same discomfort I felt in my left shoulder that was fixed with surgery back in 1999 -- so had a hunch what needed to be done.

After going through the motions of cortisone shots and physical therapy, my doctor finally agreed with me, so I'm actually quite excited to get this done so I can move on with my life.

Blogging may slow down for a week or so, but just wanted to let you know what's the latest -- and that I'll be back in business soon enough. 

VIDEO: I asked the surgeon to make me look like this when he's done. Fingers crossed! 

#FlashbackFriday

 

Forty years ago, pretending to work at Record Outlet in Detroit the summer Madonna's "True Blue" came out. 

WARNING: I've found a bunch of old photos recently! 

Nadya Ginsburg Brings 'Feral Fatale' to NYC, With Special Guests Madonna and Cher

Well, I'm not sure how that could have been any more fun.

Last night at the Cutting Room, Nadya Ginsburg delivered an affectionate skewering of two gay icons -- Cher and Madonna, who are both such caricatures of themselves these days that you really just have to be a decent impressionist to be hilarious. Thankfully, Nadya's a brilliant one! 

She then stepped into the role of herself, by far the evening's most touching performance.

Like most gay men, I discovered Nadya via her hilarious video sendups of Cher, Madonna and Winona Ryder, who was a no-show last night. 

Perhaps her best moment came when she teamed up with (the similarly underappreciated by Hollywood) Dennis Hensley for a short film, "If We Took a Holiday," about a struggling actress (Ginsburg) whose Madonna-obsessed gay BFF (Hensley) just got dumped so she tries to make his birthday special by imitating the Material Girl all day long. (The film was a sensation when it premiered at Outfest in 2014.) 

And then this past March, Damian and I had the pleasure of seeing Nadya as Cher in Dennis's fund-raising "Mismatch Game" at Los Angeles LGBT Center, where she was the undisputed star of our post-show photo session!

Watch HERE.

Afterward, I met David Ilku (of Unitard fame) and Craig Chester, both of whom I've admired and "known" online forever but never in the flesh, before spending time with my favorite Jewtalian American Princess ... catch this one if you can!

A big thank-you to Chip for the invite. xo

'Swan' Start

Last week I saw my first ballet -- and how fortunate am I that it was performed by the legendary American Ballet Theatre, just a stone's throw from our apartment on the Upper West Side. 

It was also a reminder of how lucky New Yorkers are to have not only one of the world's great ballet companies performing every summer at Lincoln Center, but also the finest opera, orchestras and theater right in our own backyard.

I saw "Swan Lake" at the Metropolitan Opera House, where ABT presented the classic full-length production during its June and July season. Set to Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's celebrated score, the ballet features lavish sets and costumes and includes some of the art form's most famous moments, including the Black Swan's dazzling 32 fouettés.

(Swoon.)

More photos including one of me in one of the remaining phone booths in Manhattan BELOW.