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That was nothing compared with the show he put on at last month's All-Star game. Finley sent four Playboy Bunnies to an NBC-Sports reception in A's-emblazoned shirts and caps to exhibit the orange balls. During the game, he even managed to give one to Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, who was on hand as Baseball Commissioner Bowie Kuhn's guest of honor. It was not an easy maneuver. Secret Service agents tapped the ball, shook it and held it to their ears to check if it was ticking. When Kissinger finally got it, he rose to his feet and tipped his hat to Finley.
When he is not feuding with players or chewing up his staff, Finley can be one of baseball's most entertaining characters. Even such a jaundiced observer as Reggie Jackson concedes that "Charlie can be a lot of fun. He knows how to raise a little hell and have a good time. He would be a great guy to have as a buddy—if you didn't work for him."
With his 34-year marriage dissolving into divorce (Finley is the father of five boys and two girls ranging in age from 17 to 33), he has abandoned the family's 1,200-acre farm in La Porte, Ind., for bachelor's digs in Chicago. There he lives in a comfortably messy two-bedroom, $630-a-month apartment overlooking Lake Michigan. Trophies and pennants clutter the living room; an ironing board with a wrinkled shirt draped over it stands amid a spill of papers in one unfurnished bedroom. When at home, Finley can usually be found sprawled on a couch talking into one telephone while another jangles.
Eating is one of the few times during the day when Finley relaxes. His telephone work done, he heads for a light meal—a few double Jack Danielses, avocado stuffed with crabmeat and a 2-lb. steak. An accomplished cook, he likes to march into a restaurant kitchen to select the meat or fish and tell the cook exactly how he wants it prepared. (A favorite Finley dish is prime sirloin ground with onions, green peppers and fresh tomatoes, chilled, and then broiled as 2-lb. patties for 25 minutes.)
Getting around town is never a problem. If there are no cabs available —most of the city's hacks seem to know Finley, who hands out $2 tips for $1 rides —he flags a police car. "Oh, excuse me, officer," he will say. "I thought you were a taxi." By that time, the cops usually recognize him and give him a lift.
Finley is a magnet for fun. Neighbors come and go in his apartment, sipping Finley's favorite Liebfraumilch. Occasionally he will entertain them with a borrowed guitar. Three Playboy Bunnies in the building sometimes stop by for a drink when they get home from work at 3 a.m., and find their host still on the telephone to California. Recently Oakland Tribune Columnist Marcy Bachmann selected Finley as one of her "20 Sexiest Men in the Eastbay." The Oakland clubhouse rattled with laughter the day that story came out—and so did Finley when he heard about it.