Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1963)

CHRISTINE KEELER continued, 24-hour protection from perspiration odor at an amazing [andcr CHLOROPHYLL STICK DEODORANT Jumbo 2 OZ. Stick Why pay morel [AN OCR CHLOROPHYLL • ESt, (*n or cionts UiT.Jo.ust USH.UP HOtOtl WASTED • McCalls / 3P1 When perspiration odor is a 24-hour a day, every-day-of-year problem, economy means a lot! There’s no more economical, more effective deodorant than Lander Chlorophyll Stick Deodorant ! It provides perfect 24-hour perspiration odor protection! No deodorant can do more — yet other leading deodorants cost two, three, even five or six times as much! So why pay more when Lander Deodorant keeps you fresh and confident all day? It’s greaseless and cooling — with a hint of fresh fragrance. Safe, non-irritating, won’t stain! % U Juio, \<ssbs>\ Iwoi aioMini ....... Luxury [amder ROLL-ON (%gc/39t Chlorophyll \7P|US ,ax Lotion Deodorant LANDER / FIFTH AVENUE / NEW YORK club — as a waitress. But the shimmering red hair and the slender, shapely body earned her a promotion to showgirl. “And then I began to meet my first interesting male companions,” Christine related. One was Stephen Ward, a fortythree-year-old socialite osteopath-artist who numbers among his patients and portrait sitters such widely disparate personages as Prince Philip and Elizabeth Taylor, as well as half the British cabinet. Included among the latter was John Profumo, forty-eight, the Secretary of State for War and one of Britain’s most brilliant ministers. Called Jack by his friends, Profumo had come into his post, which has cabinet rank, in July, 1960. He was well-qualified for it. The son of a baron of the late United Kingdom of Italy, a graduate of Harrow and Oxford, and an officer who rose from lieutenant to brigadier during World War II, Profumo had served in Commons since 1940, when he was twenty-five, the youngest member in history. In 1952, he began his climb to ministerial rank. In December, 1954, he married actress Valerie Hobson, who then gave up her twenty-year career on stage and screen. Valerie, who had two sons by a previous marriage, bore Jack a son, David, now eight. It was almost a year to the day following his elevation to Prime Minister Harold Macmillan's cabinet that Jack Profumo’s path crossed Christine Keeler’s — at the Cliveden estate swimming pool. Fate and Dr. Ward had brought Christine and Jack to the crossroads at Cliveden, thirty miles west of London. Christine drove out to see Stephen, who was spending the weekend at his country cottage on Lord Astor’s magnificent estate. We said it was a very warm night. Around midnight, the moonlight on Lord Astor's pool lent a shimmering invitation for a dip. “It didn’t matter about not having our swim suits,” says Christine. “Bill Astor — which is what we called him — always had spares hanging up in cabanas next to the pool, ready for emergency swims such as this.” Christine picked a suit and put it on, then scurried to the edge of the pool and plunged in. Suddenly Stephen called out: “Christine, I dare you to swim in the nude.” Although this suggestion might shock some girls, Christine had no such reaction. Christine and the good doctor, it must be explained, had been sharing a rather absorbing life together for some two years now. Christine lived in Stephen’s diggings in London. “Like a brother and sister,” she said. “I jolly well will take your dare,” Christine called from the pool — and off came the swimming suit. One must understand that Dr. Ward is quite a joker. He was always one for livening things up. This time was no exception. His big chance came when the whoop of a man’s laughter filtered through the huge iron gate of the wall surrounding the pool. In that same instant, two men in dinner jackets walked through the gate. One was Lord Astor and the other man was Jack Profumo. “I was terrified,” Christine said. “I called to Stephen to throw me my bathing suit. But he tossed it into the bushes. Then he laughed his head off.” Christine had only one thought in her mind now. “I knew I was as naked as the day I was born — and I swam like mad to get away at the far end of the pool.” The sight of a lithesome nude cutting through the moonsplashed water must have invigorated the dignified war minister after a heavy repast at Lord Astor’s manse. Like a ruddy high-stepper in pursuit of mirthful diversion, the Hon. Mr. Profumo bolted after Christine. But the war minister didn’t pursue his attractive quarry for very long. “Nevertheless it scared me,” said Christine as she recalled how she ran out of the pool, grabbed a towel, wrapped it around her, then turned to face the (Continued on page 99)