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Excerpts from All the Sad Young Men, Anonymous, 1961:
p.33
Dorothy took my hand and started to pull me over toward Jean Hays, the most vicious and powerful lady gossip columnist, table. [sic] I remember I balked, stood stock still and refused to budge an inch in her direction. I thought I was going to faint if I didn’t get out of that room immediately, and away from that searing feeling of Gerry’s eyes burning on the back of my neck.
“Come on, Wally,” Dorothy tugged at me. “Don’t be a fool... It will only take a minute and we’ll be safe from her barbs for a whole week...”
p. 73
I watched through dull, though still unbelieving eyes as the blond boy on the trapeze let go of the swinging bar. The actions so perfectly performed excited all those watching. Avril sat up to watch more closely. Suddenly the dark boy began to breathe heavy with passion, It seemed as if one were watching a divine ballet instead of an act of perversion. In a moment the host and the other guests were part of the ballet.
p.80
I was moving slowly along behind Dorothy and could not see whom we were to pounce upon. Dorothy greeted them gaily and as two young men stood up to grab extra chairs for their small table I saw that the man facing me was Gerry Ford, his eyes were looking directly and mockingly into mine. They seemed to hold a challenge, and an invitation for something to come, but their eyes were also glazed from drinking. [sic - his eyes have eyes? Must be a typo for “the” - the thing is, Wally's supposed to be a successful writer...]Although half-stoned by booze myself, I felt a great disappointment in him.
p.86
I laughed delightedly at the gorgeous Dorothy. She looked like a cottoncandy dream, but when turned loose she had the vocabulary of and talked like, a truck driver.
Gerry was fading from my conscious mind, and I hoped, his image had not hidden itself somewhere in my subconscious. At the moment I was secretly enjoying the anticipation of having an all-out, no holds barred sex bout with Dorothy... and as soon as she finished her bowl of chili I felt like dragging her by the hair, caveman-like fashion, out of this cave of smoke and hamburger grease..., but to my horror Avril and his expensive gown, hanging on his cadaverous model slithered up to our table. Avril was breathless with the excitement of finding us where we said we would be. ( I remember of thinking sadly, of how many times people had said they would meet the poor little faggot at some designated spot while they turned up in another part of town ... this sad, gay world.)
p.33
Dorothy took my hand and started to pull me over toward Jean Hays, the most vicious and powerful lady gossip columnist, table. [sic] I remember I balked, stood stock still and refused to budge an inch in her direction. I thought I was going to faint if I didn’t get out of that room immediately, and away from that searing feeling of Gerry’s eyes burning on the back of my neck.
“Come on, Wally,” Dorothy tugged at me. “Don’t be a fool... It will only take a minute and we’ll be safe from her barbs for a whole week...”
p. 73
I watched through dull, though still unbelieving eyes as the blond boy on the trapeze let go of the swinging bar. The actions so perfectly performed excited all those watching. Avril sat up to watch more closely. Suddenly the dark boy began to breathe heavy with passion, It seemed as if one were watching a divine ballet instead of an act of perversion. In a moment the host and the other guests were part of the ballet.
p.80
I was moving slowly along behind Dorothy and could not see whom we were to pounce upon. Dorothy greeted them gaily and as two young men stood up to grab extra chairs for their small table I saw that the man facing me was Gerry Ford, his eyes were looking directly and mockingly into mine. They seemed to hold a challenge, and an invitation for something to come, but their eyes were also glazed from drinking. [sic - his eyes have eyes? Must be a typo for “the” - the thing is, Wally's supposed to be a successful writer...]Although half-stoned by booze myself, I felt a great disappointment in him.
p.86
I laughed delightedly at the gorgeous Dorothy. She looked like a cottoncandy dream, but when turned loose she had the vocabulary of and talked like, a truck driver.
Gerry was fading from my conscious mind, and I hoped, his image had not hidden itself somewhere in my subconscious. At the moment I was secretly enjoying the anticipation of having an all-out, no holds barred sex bout with Dorothy... and as soon as she finished her bowl of chili I felt like dragging her by the hair, caveman-like fashion, out of this cave of smoke and hamburger grease..., but to my horror Avril and his expensive gown, hanging on his cadaverous model slithered up to our table. Avril was breathless with the excitement of finding us where we said we would be. ( I remember of thinking sadly, of how many times people had said they would meet the poor little faggot at some designated spot while they turned up in another part of town ... this sad, gay world.)
