Raquel Welch, the number one sex symbol of the 1960s, has died. As a kid, my friend Terry and I both had crushes on Raquel Welch and Stefanie Powers. He preferred "Rocky" as we called her and I preferred "Steffie."
I probably first saw her as the Billboard girl on THE HOLLYWOOD PALACE but never paid much attention to her. I know the first movie I saw her in was FATHOM, on TV a few years after it had come out.
Terry and I saw KANSAS CITY BOMBER twice at the theater, even though neither of us liked roller derby. We both loved her weirdo TV special, which made the cover of TV GUIDE, and we talked my dad into taking us to see HANNIE CAULDER when we were still underage for R-rated movies.
No such luck with the MPAA X-rated MYRA BRECKINRIDGE, which was supposed to be her big breakout film, although I did read the book and I had the cool film poster on my wall for years.
Later, in the 1970s, when Raquel began touring with a singing act, we were still too young to see her at the legendary Beverly Hills Supper Club here in Kentucky before it burned down, although Terry in recent years insists that we did go to see her together then.
In time, she got to be a better actress, and she wasn't a terrible singer, either. Perhaps surorisingly, she never appeared nude, wither in films or in magazines. A belated PLAYBOY spread has her topless but completely covered up in every photo.
My wife's comic book character Ms. Molecule is based in part visually on Raquel in FANTASTIC VOYAGE.
Raquel Welch has been a part of my pop culture life for more than half a century. I'm sorry to see her go. R.I.P.
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