a lot of free time, with suggestions, of course. Among the suggested activities I missed, which several others enjoyed, were visits to the Dutch tulip gardens, up the Eiffel tower, most of the gay bars (Chuck recommended several in each city) most of the fancy restaurants, bus tours to Versailles and to Oxford, Windsor Castle and Stratford, a hydrofoil excursion to Malmo in Sweden, the in-town tours in London, Munich and Copenhagen, and the Anne Frank house in Amsterdam, as well as the exciting first-night bar tour in London, conducted by an English clergyman, whom I visited next day at his vicarage, where an ancient crypt had been reconverted to make way for a community social service center dealing chiefly with homosexuals and al-

coholics.

Charles, Jim and Ed formed a close trio, off mostly shopping, flowering and gormandizing. The other Charles and Ben became inseparable. Howard and Dick were busy with independent pursuits. Harold skipped a couple stops for a longer stay in the British Isles.

Generally, in each country there was one bus tour arranged in the city where we stayed, and one to surrounding points of interest. The latter tour in Denmark was a delight, with a guide, an elegant butch who kept camping with Dick, while we hoped most of it was over the heads of other tourists on the bus. Lively and intimate descriptions as we went through the Frederiksborg and Hamlet castles and passed near the home of Baroness Blixen (Isac Dineson). The countryside tour in Holland included a lively ferry ride across the Zuider Zee to Volendam and the Isle of Marken, two mediaeval quaint towns where a few hundred costumed natives seemed to live caged as thousands of tourists per hour went gawking through, peeking and poking. On the ride back, a raucous group of fat and forty German

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tourists romped about the boat, trying to toss one another, and anyone else who got in the way, into the frigid water, until we passed and helped rescue a capsized sailboat, and fished three beautiful teenagers out of the water. Then to Edam, for a view of cheesemaking.

London's streets are dominated by the Mods and Rockers, two nationwide gangs, or actually two antagonistic youthful styles, since they are not organized the fancy-boys and the leather-boys, and their respective girlfriends or boyfriends, as the case may be. Zurich's streets at night seemed filled with stolid and surly peasant-boy draftees, seeming ready for a fight. In Munich, street brawls seemed to be a prime sport. In three days, I saw five brawls, two involving dozens of participants. Two drunks stagger from a cheap bar against an old woman, who beats one of them on the head with her umbrella. The other tossed her halfway across the street, but she returns swinging. Another passerby, his leg in a cast, begins kicking, with the cast. An elegant old gentleman, looks on with distaste, and a few seconds later is punching away. A fight I saw in London was quite different. A pudgy, well dressed tough kicked a witless young hobo he passed, scattering the youth's ragtag bundles. The bully returned for more two or three times, and his victim seemed to lack the coordination to defend himself. Suddenly the worm turned. Flailing wildly but with effect, and kicking just as wildly, the younger one nearly killed his assailant, bloodying him, going back to the scattered bundles, then returning again for a few more kicks in the face or the groin. Though several people were bumped in this fray, none else on the crowded Soho street interfered, but rather watched morbidly. (I didn't see a policeman interfere with anyone in Europe.) Meanwhile, I was accosted by three dirty-show pimps,