impotence. He wanted only to be a friend of Belle, the girl with learning, culture and no sex appeal.

Why then find fault with a play that did not obfuscate? Why not acclaim without reservation a writer of humor, warmth and acute sensibility?

It is painful to mention flaws in a work of aspiration while one approves a superficial, expertly made entertainment like "Write Me a Murder." But each type of play must be judged by its own laws.

The fundamental flaw of "Look: We've Come Through" was that one did not believe in the pivotal boy-and-girl relationship as the thing it looked to be. Bobby was revealed with sympathy as a sad, passive homosexual in spite of himself. It was suggested that he was

changing, but everything about him said he would not. The girl was made to appear sexless. Her first joust with sex was an intellectual experiment. While the end was touching as the maimed youngsters found security in each other, one was sure that it would not last. It could hot last while she remained a woman and he the sort of man he was.

For all its virtues, the play was lamed. For all his courage, had Mr. Wheeler dared enough? Did inhibitions imposed by the theme lead to a sense of troubling incompletion?

Mr. Wheeler has been brave to go as far as he has in writing about homosexuality with probity. His way is infinitely preferable to the furtive, leering insinuations that have contaminated some of our arts.

In men whom men pronounce as ill I find so much of goodness still. In men whom men pronounce divine, I find so much of sin and blot; I hesitate to draw the line between the two, when God has not.

-JOAQUIN MILLER

CHOOSE TO KNOW!

One of the facts of life is that astrology, divorced from charlantry and generalized sun sign readings, is true science. Who can afford to deny life the advantage of knowledge? Yet if ignorance were bliss happiness would oftener be the rule. The twin truth of karma and astrology (cause and effect) reveals fate to whomever will seek to know it thereby. Your inquiry is welcome.

I have had over twenty years' research and experience in the occult and believe that a properly delineated horoscope is the most valuable property one can ever own! I charge ten dollars for drawing the life chart and answering questions regarding personal fate, i.e. career, health, finances, emotional concerns, past experiences, future plans-and describe the individual's destiny in terms of these, offering advice if so requested. I have a sincere desire to employ my knowledge in the service of worthy and interested persons. Please include moment of birth if known as well as the year, month, day and place with the precise questions desired answered. Fee promptly refunded if dissatisfied! All work personally done and typewritten..

L. E. KINCAID

27 West 11th Street, New York 11, New York

FICTION

TOMORROW BEGINS AT MIDNIGHT

DICK MALIN

Snow fell softly over Washington Square, as the lone figure walked through. Paul Larson was his name. He had lived in the Village for three weeks now, and was still lonely. He worked every day, was always nice to people, but he had not met any friends.

Here it was Christmas Eve. All he had was his cosy warm apartment to go back to. These two rooms he had hated at first, but loved now, for they were his private domain-a place he could hide in, away from the noise and confusion of New York City. He remembered seeing the young man across the hall in the morning when they went to work, and the cool "hello" that he received for his large effort to find a friend.

Paul was not homely, yet he was not a handsome young man. He was always a lonely child, even back home in Ohio. He painted when he was very young, and so his parents sent him to the best schools, and when he came out of the service, he had a good enough education to get a job on a leading magazine in Manhattan. Even with a good salary and a comfortable apartment, he was not satisfied. He wanted someone to share it all with.

He walked up the street, thinking back to the street he lived on as a teenager. The old brownstone house, just down the block from the neighborhood movie-house. The weekends he would go there to meet another boy his age, and how they would sit in the back row, hidden from prying eyes, holding hands wishing they were old enough to understand their problems, and desires.

That was many years ago and he had not been back home for four yearssince before he had enlisted. Maybe he would go back home during Easter. He went up the stairs to his lonely rooms. He had even decorated a small tree for himself and had put all the cards on it, and around the mirrorcards from so many people so many miles away. And after drinking a small shot of brandy, he lay down and went to sleep.

6

Phone Yukon 9-2062

Across the hall sat another lonely young man, Steven Henderson. He was thinking back to his younger days-high school crushes on male teachers, 7

mattachine REVIEW