How Bobby Runs and Talks, Talks, Talks

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Riggs went gloriously wild, even by his own feral standards. He became a sudden lover about town, acting like a sawed-off version of his old betting crony Errol Flynn. Making the rounds of expensive restaurants, he cuddled, nuzzled and took the phone number of every willing young thing in sight. It was as if he were acting out the fantasy in his after-shave commercial. The scenario has two tennis bunnies leaping the net to embrace him. In the closing shot, Riggs winks, tilts his tennis shade rakishly and says: "Imagine, a 55-year-old sex symbol."

Imagine indeed. As sex symbols go, Riggs is almost too outrageous even for these confused times. To be kind, if a movie is made of the life of Bobby Riggs, the part will probably not go to Warren Beatty. In fact, it should likely fall to Mickey Rooney—who has already offered his services. Riggs stands 5 ft. 7½ in., and, with that peculiar waddle and a well-tinted Cesare Borgia haircut that verges on the grotesque, he seems unsuited for the role of either athlete or bon vivante. But the girls are around, and, since he travels a lot these days, Riggs keeps one on ice in each section of the country, pledging her the "franchise" for that particular area code. Like every other aspect of his life, sex seems to be a game with Riggs; one can almost picture him inviting a woman to join in amorous combat, two out of three falls, with an anvil tied to his waist and a goldfish bowl on his head.

In a recent session for promotional photographs, Riggs posed as legendary masterful males. He mugged in turn as Rudolph Valentino swishing a sword, Tarzan swinging with Jane, Henry VIII brandishing a turkey drumstick. Divers bosomy blondes sprawled at his feet, including two of his new friends, Sandra Giles and Susan Holloway. When Susan observed that "these pictures aren't very sexy," Bobby agreed and asked Susan to take off her clothes. She complied to the last thread, and Bobby Riggs Tudor began pawing like a satyr. "Wow! This is more fun than turkey legs. Turn around, honey, let them see more of you. All right. Everybody get undressed. Now the party starts." Said Susan later: "Bobby can be so persuasive."

Steve Powers, 29, a friend of Bobby's son Larry, agrees. When he got to Los Angeles six weeks ago, Riggs invited himself to stay in Powers' home. He phoned, Powers recalls, and asked, "You play tennis up there on Sunday?" Yes. "Will there be girls?" Yes. Riggs moved in and within a few days took his host and several friends for more than $2,000 in betting tennis.

Duck v. Pigeon. "He's a natural egomaniac," says Powers. "But he's been a great help in picking up girls in Beverly Hills. I get out of the car, then he comes up and babbles a lot of nonsense, and the girls figure that anyone who knows anyone that mad can't be all bad." One such incident, however, turned out to be costly. Bobby, who had been drinking, fell asleep, and the girl walked off with $1,800 in cash from his trousers pocket. "There wasn't even any sex," says Riggs.