Burt Reynolds was arguably the biggest movie star on the planet in 1972. He had just finished filming Deliverance, a gritty, harrowing survival thriller that was supposed to finally prove he was a "serious" actor. But then, he did something that changed his career forever. He took off his clothes.
The image of Burt Reynolds on a bearskin rug is probably more famous than half the movies he actually starred in. It was the April 1972 issue of Cosmopolitan, and there he was—splayed out, hairy, holding a cigarillo, and wearing nothing but a smirk that suggested he was in on the joke.
The Night a Centerfold Was Born
It didn't start in a high-powered marketing meeting. Honestly, it started because Burt was guest-hosting The Tonight Show for Johnny Carson. Helen Gurley Brown, the legendary and somewhat scandalous editor of Cosmopolitan, was one of his guests. During a commercial break, she leaned over and asked him if he'd be the magazine's first-ever male nude centerfold.
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Burt said yes. Simple as that.
He later admitted he was a bit "chicken-shited" into it. Someone probably told him he wouldn't dare do it, and if there was one thing Burt Reynolds couldn't handle, it was being called a chicken. He thought it would be a "hoot"—a clever parody of the Playboy Playmates.
Two Quarts of Vodka and a Fuzzy Rug
The actual shoot was anything but glamorous. Reynolds showed up at Francesco Scavullo’s studio on March 14, 1972. Scavullo was a titan of fashion photography, the guy who basically invented the "Cosmo Girl" look.
Burt wasn't exactly sober for the occasion. He later confessed to knocking back about two quarts of vodka just to get through the nerves of being naked in front of a crew. If you look closely at the photo, that famous "mischievous" grin might just be the look of a man who is incredibly drunk and trying not to fall off the floor.
The Logistics of the Pose
Scavullo had Burt lie down on a golden-brown bearskin rug. It was the ultimate 70s bachelor pad aesthetic. To keep things "classy" (or at least legal for newsstands), Burt had to strategically place his arm and hand. He called the area he was covering his "tallywacker."
There were other shots, too. In some outtakes, he used a hat to cover himself; in others, a dog. But the bearskin rug shot was the one that made history.
The Fallout Nobody Expected
When that issue hit the stands, it didn't just sell. It exploded. All 1.5 million copies vanished almost instantly.
For the public, it was a revolution. Women finally had their own version of the Playboy pinup. You’d find that centerfold taped to refrigerator doors, dorm room walls, and inside locker doors across America. It turned Burt into a "Celebrity" with a capital C.
But for Burt the Actor? It was a disaster.
Deliverance was released shortly after, and while it was a critical smash, Reynolds was convinced the photo cost him an Oscar nomination. He felt the Academy couldn't take a man seriously if they’d seen his pubic hair on their coffee table. He once noted that standing ovations at his plays turned into "burlesque show hoots and catcalls." People stopped listening to his dialogue and started looking for the rug.
Why the Rug Still Matters Today
Decades later, the image hasn't faded. It’s been parodied by everyone from Sean Bean to Ryan Reynolds (who recreated it for the Deadpool marketing campaign). It represents a very specific moment in the 1970s when the "sexual revolution" was moving into the mainstream.
Regret or Legacy?
Toward the end of his life, Burt's feelings on the matter were pretty dark. He told anyone who would listen that it was the "worst mistake" he ever made. He felt it trivialized his talent and overshadowed a decade of hard work.
Yet, you can't deny the impact. He broke a taboo. He showed that men could be objectified just as easily as women, and he did it with a level of charisma that few stars today can match. Even if he hated the "egomaniac" who posed for it, that image is a permanent part of the American cultural DNA.
How to View the Legacy of the Centerfold
If you're looking back at this piece of pop culture history, here are a few ways to understand its true weight:
- Look past the kitsch: While the bearskin rug feels like a "dad joke" now, in 1972, it was a radical assertion of female desire. Helen Gurley Brown used Burt to prove that women were "visual animals" too.
- Study the career pivot: Reynolds’ career after the rug became a mix of high-octane hits like Smokey and the Bandit and deep personal regrets. It’s a case study in how a single PR stunt can hijack a professional reputation.
- Appreciate the "In on the Joke" attitude: Despite his later regrets, the photo works because Burt looks like he’s laughing at the absurdity of it all. That self-deprecation was his greatest superpower as an actor.
Burt Reynolds passed away in 2018, but the image of him on that rug remains immortal. It serves as a reminder that sometimes the things we do for a "hoot" end up defining us more than the things we do for "art."
To truly appreciate the era, seek out a copy of the 2017 documentary I Am Burt Reynolds. It gives a much more nuanced look at how he grappled with his status as a sex symbol while desperately wanting to be seen as a craftsman. You’ll see that behind the mustache and the rug was a man who just wanted to be respected.