The myth versus the reality: Unraveling the Monroe-Hefner narrative
This lack of a physical meeting fundamentally reframes the question of whether Marilyn "liked" Hefner. She could not harbor a personal affection or animosity toward a man with whom she shared, at most, a single, brief telephone conversation. Yet, the psychological and cultural legacy of their intertwined names remains a fascinating study in celebrity exploitation, media branding, and posthumous juxtaposition.
The business of beauty: How the first issue came to be
To understand Monroe's hypothetical stance on Hefner, one must look at how her iconic nude photographs ended up in his fledgling magazine.
The Original Shoot: In 1949, a struggling young starlet named Norma Jeane Baker posed for pinup photographer Tom Kelley out of financial desperation, earning a meager $50 for the session.
The Acquisition: Years later, working on a shoestring budget in Chicago, Hefner purchased the rights to those transparencies for $500 without Monroe's knowledge or explicit modern consent.
The Launch: That inaugural issue sold over 50,000 copies, instantly catapulting Playboy into cultural prominence while utilizing Monroe's rising star power as its launchpad.
Monroe herself noted in interviews later in life that she never received a direct thank-you—let alone residual financial compensation—from the men who made millions off her likeness before she became a household name. Given her acute business awareness and sensitivity regarding how her image was managed, it is reasonable to deduce that she would have viewed Hefner's early capitalization on her body with deep frustration, viewing it as yet another instance of the industry profiting off her vulnerability without offering reciprocal respect.
The posthumous proximity: The Westwood crypt
The most striking chapter of their non-relationship unfolded decades after Monroe’s tragic death in 1962. In 1992, Hefner purchased the burial crypt directly adjacent to Monroe’s at the Westwood Village Memorial Park Cemetery in Los Angeles for $75,000. When Hefner passed away in 2017, he was laid to rest right beside her, fulfilling a long-stated desire to spend eternity next to "the ultimate blonde" and the anchor of his publishing empire.
This final resting place has elicited mixed reactions from historians, fans, and cultural critics alike:
The Symbology Argument: Hefner openly admitted that his choice was entirely symbolic, viewing Monroe as the ethereal muse who birthed his multi-million dollar enterprise.
The Critique of Appropriation: Detractors argue that placing Hefner's remains next to Monroe's is the ultimate metaphor for male co-optation, allowing a publisher who never knew her to permanently tether his legacy to her tragic, luminous identity.
A One-Sided Infatuation
Did Marilyn "like" Hugh Hefner? The answer is historically definitive: there was no relationship to like or dislike.
While Hefner built an entire aesthetic, publishing empire, and personal mythology around the archetype that Monroe popularized, Marilyn herself was merely a distant catalyst to his ambitions. She was an artist striving for serious dramatic recognition, whereas Hefner was an entrepreneur packaging a fantasy. If Monroe had lived to witness the full scale of Playboy's growth built upon her unauthorized likeness, her reactions likely would have mirrored her complex feelings toward Hollywood as a whole, a mixture of gratitude for the public adoration, coupled with resentment toward those who profited from her image without her permission.