apologies, which I frankly enjoyed, they left and I went for a swim. All my philosophizing was washed out in the water and I felt merged with the great, playful crowd, shouting, diving, swimming, jumping waves, shooting spray at boys I'd never been introduced to, exchanging comments on the size of an oncoming wave, becoming entangled with two brawny dykes and riding the waves with them awhile, diving for handfulls of mud and colorful clams, and sending sprays of water at anyone who came within range. I came out of the water happy and exhausted, flopped in the soft sand and slept . . .

Joe and Jim, a look-alike, dressalike couple I knew, woke me. Happily married (seven years), they shared a distinctive home. Joe managed a small factory and Jim was an accountant. They were devout Mormons. They were as enthusiastic about the beach as Marty, but for other reasons. "We never go to gay bars," Joe said. "Aside from entertaining, and returning visits. where else can we meet people? There aren't many respectable places to meet other nice homosexuals."

I asked if they approved of some of the things that went on, camping, cruising and exhibitionism.

"What things?" Jim asked. "Just forget that these people are homosexuals and ask yourself if anything goes on here that doesn't go on at every beach? Intermix the sexes and the behavior here would be mild for a church picnic back in Iowa. Of course there are some folks in every group that take advantage of things, but you can't blame the whole group for that."

Several years ago in another city I accidentally discovered my first gay beach when I saw a "NUDE SUNBATHING" sign on a bathhouse. It took me a few trips to the beach to screw up enough courage to go in and inquire. They had cots on the roof. I got sunburned in some new places and tried in vain to ignore some of the things going on, chiefly in the dressing rooms. I kept to myself. Many of the men were attractive, and several, attractive or otherwise, were making a deliberate display. One fey young thing was prancing about in slippers. carrying a towel. However, most of the sunbathers were concerned chiefly with sunbathing. The place and the gay beach around it drew me like a magnet till I was scared away by rumors of repeated police raids.

The damp hallways of such places contrast sharply with the healthy, open atmosphere of the gay beach, and thinking back to the unpleasant old bathhouse, I could share Marty's elation about the beach, and also agree with Joe and Jim that there really was very little reprehensible behavior on this beach.

The United States has hundreds of miles of fine public beaches. I guess homosexuals like to go swimming as much as anyone else, and there is something about the beach that makes one want to discard the mask and give up the defensive pretense that is sec ond nature with most homosexuals.

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