AUGUST 1976

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(614) 221-1521 Auditions Monday and Tuesday from 9 to 10 pm

Orgies

HIGH GEAR

MY FIRST TRIP TO THE BATHS

By Jerry Juszczyk

indiscriminate | (Apparently, one doesn't need a lovemaking ... embarrassment at membership card to gain enbeing viewed in a towel... fortrance; but the management ced sexual scenes. Whether wants to make certain the clienirrational fears or wishful thinking, these illusions kept me from going to the baths for years that is until one weekend in June when for the sake of gay journalism, I took the plunge,

For those who have never been to the baths there is a mythical aura surrounding them which defies all common sense. Many of us would prefer opting for the social pretense of the bars; for even though we may frankly admit we're there for sexual contact, it's OK. Why? Maybe because we're fully clothed, or cause we can dance in a party-like atmosphere, carry on preliminary social conversations and then make love in the privacy of our own homes.

The baths, however, appear to represent behaviors which on the surface may be difficult to accept. Sex for sex's sake, devoid of any emotion or the ultimate "meat rack" where we are, indeed on parade, as we are nowhere else.

Armed with these ill-equipped notions, I and a friend journeyed to Cleveland's West Ninth Street Baths. My compatriot persisted in assuring me no bleary-eyed derelict would make advances, and even if one did, all I'd have to do is brush his hand away.

Apprehension ... fear ... nervous tension, they rattled my body as we pulled into the parking lot. Fortunately, the Vaults is ideally located next door to the Ninth Street Baths and I, like a madman in search of a panacea to his discomfort, rushed my friend into the bar for its liberating elixir.

Three beers later, we wandered over to the mysterious entrance. On entering, we found a glass enclosed "ticket booth" where a man asked us if we had membership cards. Since we did not, we identified ourselves as staff members from High Gear and were buzzed inside after receiving a towel, a locker key and paying what I initially felt was a steep $5.00 admission.

tele is gay. If you're a nonmember, it might be helpful to refer to an appropriate baths ad in High Gear).

Once inside, the first objects one sees are pieces of gymnastic equipment modified weight lifting devices and exercise benches. Behind them and off to the right is a spiral staircase which leads to a second floor mezzanine that looked intriguing from below. Towel-clad men wandered about, rather innocently.

We marched down a long corridor to get to our lockers. As disrobed, I was overwhelmed with a nostalgic feeling of being in my high school gym locker room. I could feel my heart pounding with was it nervous anxiety? unrequited excitement? or both. We wrapped our towels around our waists and slipped the elastic banded keys on our wrists. And then we toured.

I was impressed with the physical enviornment of these particular. baths. Lush wall-towall carpeting soothingly played at our feet. Wandering downstairs to the shower room, we just couldn't resist climbing into the swirling moisture of the whirlpool. The jet-propelled, massaging waters were a truly fun experience and we were able to sustain the event without disheveling our appearances. The music room is a charmer. Patrons can pick favorite record selections free of charge and just lie back and enjoy.

Slowly, it was beginning to dawn on me that my surroundings represented a social club more than a brothel. The aforementioned mezzanine capped it all off when we saw an 80 inch video TV screen with leathersque seating arrangements which made conversation easy and accessible. (Be forewarned, Mary Hartman is an outrageous visual attack in that size!) Free Billiards finally convinced me that the $5.00 ad-

mission fee was not all that

unreasonable).

So far as the clientele goes, one presumption I had was correct. The cruising is more intense than in the bars; but that is not to saying it is intimidating. People relate at the baths as they do anywhere. The only difference is that here they are more verbally direct, and with private rooms readily available, much more likely not to circumvent the issue.

While at the baths, I was approached by two men who did not interest me sexually. I held a polite conversation with the first and simply told him I was not pursuing sex that evening. He respected my wishes and we continued our conversation a short while before he left.

The second man was perhaps a little less tactful. Painfully insecure, he came on somewhat aggressively, but in an awkward manner. I was straightforward with my disinterest in him, and he begrudgingly accepted it. At that moment my friend happened by and we had a game of pool. Had I stayed with the second man, I'm certain I would not have been pressured into sex. This was one very definite feeling that emerged from the evening I knew I wouldn't have to do anything I didn't want to.

So far as the "orgy room" is concerned, there is a dark area in these baths which I presume

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from the information of others is used for group encounters. I'm somewhat embarrassed to say I didn't survey it partially because my consciousness is not yet at the level of having sex with more than one person at a time. In fact, I'm not even so sure the notorious area is little more than a space for wishful thinking. Nonetheless, sooner or later I will venture through its doors, if for no other reason than curiosity, when I return. And yes, I will return.

My first trip to the baths was an eye-opener. Like many seemingly anxiety-producing situations, it just was not as "bad" as I imagined it to be. One can go to the baths, not have sex and still have a good time. The potential for the baths as gay male social clubs is, in fact, enormous.

There are, however, environmental circumstances which one must adapt himself to. One is the sweat-producing heat in parts of the baths, another is the continuous re-adjustment of one's falling towel, and the third is that people seem a little less open (at least on the evening I visited) to indulge in conversation. The latter, of course, is a self-imposed state which I'm certain fluctuates on any given night.

no

Men of all ages frequent the baths; there was predominate age group and no "bleary-eyed derelicts" that I could see. I am lead to believe that other area baths The Club Cleveland, at 1448 W. 32nd St. (which presents a very relaxed, at-home atmosphere), The Cleveland Depo Baths, 1946 St. Clair on the Strip (a new operation with a bright future), the Toledo Club Baths at 1122 IMonroe(intriguingly billed as a vacation in itself) and the Columbus Club Baths at 1575 E. Livingston Avenue all provide services of a similar vein. One thing is certain. The management of each of these establishments stresses

cleanliness and any visitor would be hard put to prove otherwise.

If you've never visited the baths, for one reason or another, you owe it to yourself to give them a try. After all, nothing ventured, nothing gained. My friend and left Ninth Street that evening, grateful for a new experience and looking forward to a return visit. Only next time, we're going to bring our dads.

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