whole business sicker than it really is" he feels.

Tom holds a responsible position with the Federal Government. He is careful to toe the line with straight society. He can pass as a "regular guy" at any social function--"I just have to keep my eyes from wandering." He hopes to "lick this problem some day" and feels that analysis is probably the only real answer. "There's only one hitch . . . it boils down to the simple truth that I first have to want to change before I can be helped. So far I have not come to that point. I am still looking for someone-a dream boy? a dream? an answer? I don't know."

All four of our examples like to go to East Hampton because here more than anywhere else they can be "one of the boys." At first glance East Hampton seems like the least likely candidate possible for the home of a gay beach. Sister village to society-ridden Southampton, it too has always been the darling of the haute monde. A quiet, overly pretty and over-churched community, it is best known as the birthplace of John Howard Payne ("Home Sweet Home") and home of "Nature Trial." ("This trail is yours to enjoy Help preserve its beautyWatch the birds-Learn to know the flowers the trees and the shrubsPlease do not destroy.") East Hampton has another attractive facet however. Recently it has become arty, housing an excellent summer theatre and a noteworthy art collection. Today red leotards and platinum hair, Village beards and sneakers and sports cars are interspersed with proper cotton prints, sailing caps and station wagons from Scarsdale. It was just a matter of time until homosexuals discovered East Hampton's possibilities. They may have created the possibilities. There has been no mass exodus from Cherry

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Grove, homosexual mecca on Fire Island, but East Hampton has attracted much of the "butch" crowd from New York. There are a few swishy types to be found but Cherry Grovestyle "camping-it-up" is heavily frowned upon by the "regulars." The particular flavor of East Hampton gay life can be seen in the dismal failure of a nearby restaurant to capitalize on the gay influx. In a deliberate effort to appeal to gay tastes the management renovated the establishment, sparing no expense to add the right touches: fountains, outside colored lights, patios, avant garde paintings, garish statuary and endless gimmicks such as a bathtub latrine. The East Hampton crowd couldn't care less and have bestowed their financial blessings on a cheaplooking and practically inaccessible roadhouse in Bridgehampton, which formerly catered to twisting teenagers. Here group dances such as the "Continental" are the rage and it is doubtful that the casual visitor suspects a thing. The management has been careful to plant a bevy of girls among the gay boys, giving the wholesome appearance of a good old rah-rah college fun group.

Visit the gay crowd's favorite beach (actually one of the several public beaches maintained by the village of East Hampton) and you still might not notice anything as well. The disproportionate ratio of men to women (a few lesbians and unknowing mothers with children) and a few bizarre bathing suits are your only clues unless you were bold enough to follow a gay couple into the dunes or underbrush. Some of the neighbors have lodged complaints: "Think of our children discovering such goings-on in the bushes." One old maid occupying a Victorian beach house almost a mile away was shocked at certain scenes she happened to witness through her

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