Felix’ funeral was the sad occasion that next brought most of the Gang together.  It was the first time that the Gang had shrunk. We knew it wouldn’t be the last, especially as we recognized that we were inviting the generation of our parents to think of themselves as members of, rather than parents of, the Gang.

 

It was a sad occasion, but also happy.  We were celebrating a life that, except for the last few months ended with great joy.  Tim and I, especially after our conversation with Felix’ lawyer, felt a great deal of satisfaction from the joy that we had brought into Felix’ life.  To this day I believe Tim when he says that that is more important to him than his Olympic medals.  And we learned, talking with the group of men who had been student roomers in Felix’ home, that Felix had had a very positive effect on the lives of many students at the University.  He had been confidant, father confessor, guide, loan agent,  butt kicker, as well as landlord for many.  They were pleased to tell their Felix stories.

 

Perhaps the funniest story that came out of that trip came from the funeral director who had handled all the arrangements.  Felix had met with him about a month before his death and made all of the arrangements.  Legal matters were in the hands of the lawyer, everything else was to be in the hands of Billy, Tim, and me.  Felix had left a sealed letter of instructions for the undertaker.  It contained exactly one instruction.  On his butt cheeks, in permanent Magic Marker, was to be the number 18.  And Tim and I were to be told about it, and assured that the instruction had been carried out.  We were assured that it was.  Felix was a charming, dirty old man right to the end.  And, no, we really couldn’t explain all that to the undertaker, despite his curiosity!

 

The gathering allowed us a chance to right a wrong.  Somehow we had simply never thought to formally invite Billy and Sara to be part of the Gang.  I think we just sort of thought that they were.  But Franklin’s letter had not been sent to them, because we hadn’t really made them a part of the Gang.  One of the last things that Felix did on earth was to make his telephone call to Franklin.  That telephone call was Felix’ last contact with any member of the Gang–since Billy was not a member.

 

A few quick conversations confirmed that everyone agreed that Billy was really a member of the Gang already.  Tim was delegated to talk to Billy and Sara, apologize for our being slow and stupid, and invite them to consider themselves as “two of the Gang.”  They insisted that they had never felt left out, but greatly appreciated our formal invitation, which they accepted with delight.  Tim shared the correspondence that had been heating up the post office since Franklin’s letter, and was told, “Well, now you have my parents to think about.  We can be pretty sure that Sara’s would be shocked, not delighted, but mine might fool us.  If I can keep copies of these letters, I’ll share them with my parents at an appropriate time this year.”

 

Billy added one more thing: “After reading the letters, I note that Norman mentioned that the Gang is not defined by sex.  That’s understood.  But Sara and I are pretty horny creatures and don’t want to be left out of anything.  OK?”

 

Tim and I, to whom the comment was made, both said, “OK.”

 

Carl and Carol took the opportunity of our being together to apologize for not responding to Franklin’s letter.  They said that they just sort of assumed that everybody would count them in, but were sorry they hadn’t written.  Carl said, “Since I share parents with the little squirt, I sort of assumed that with them in, you’d count me in.”  We did now.

 

Before he left Grand Forks to head back to Kansas, Franklin handed me a piece of paper.  “This is official.  I’ll be mailing copies to everyone as soon as I’m back in Kansas.

 

Charlie’s Gang

Membership Roster

February, 1972

 

The Original Gang

Charlie

Tim

Tom

Franklin

Hal

Jim

Andy

Ronnie

 

Their Partners

Nancy (Tom)

Phil (Franklin)

Sue (Hal)

Amy (Jim, Andy)

Kara (Jim, Andy)

Kyle (Ronnie)

Sharon (Ronnie)

 

Siblings

Carl

Carol

 

Friends

Tina

Merle

Billy

Sara

Herb

Phyllis

 

Former POGs

Fred (Charlie)

Norman and Betsy (Tim)

Sam and Beverly (Tom)

Peter and Norma (Franklin)

John and Hazel (Hal)

Walter and Trudi (Jim)

Curtis and Melanie (Andy)

Frank and Adele (Ronnie)

 

Emeritus

Felix

 

We had grown to thirty-eight, and I had a feeling that soon Bill and Martha would be added to make it forty.  I sent a copy to Stanley, telling him that without Camp White Elk none of this would have come to pass.  He replied that the list had brought tears to his eyes.  He also predicted that soon we would be inviting Jeff and Dick to join as well!

 

Our return to Michigan brought a new thought from Tim.  “You know, Charlie, you have to decide whether you are going to this year’s Olympics as a spectator or a competitor.  If you are going to compete, you are going to have to start some real serious practice.”

 

“I practice regularly with the University Archery Club.”

 

“Oh, shit, Charlie.  You know you aren’t serious about your practice.  Can you hit scores like you hit in Mexico?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Regularly?”

 

I had to admit that “regularly” did not describe my high scores.  I also had to admit that Tim was right, I was going to have to get serious about my practice if I was going to go to Munich as a competitor.  “What would you like, Tim?  Is it important that we march together in the Opening Ceremony?”

 

“Don’t put it on my back, Charlie.  It’s up to you.”

 

“No, Tim.  It’s not.  I started archery for you.  You know it.  Yes, I’m glad I did it.  It’s fun to say I won an Olympic gold medal.  But I did it for you, not some damn medal.  If I try to do it again, it will be for you, not for some damn medal.  Now, is it important to you?”

 

“Oh, God, Charlie.  Am I really that important to you?

 

“You know you are, Tim.  This isn’t new information.”

 

“Yes, dammit.  I’d love to walk with you in Munich.  And I’d love to share a room in the Olympic Village with you.  Yes, it would mean a lot to me.  But I feel guilty saying that.”

 

“No guilt.  I’ve never quite figured out what motivates you, but I know what motivates me.  And unless you spell it out, I don’t have the motivation to do the work I have to do.”

 

“I’m not motivated, Charlie.  I just love doing what I do.  I truly love it.  Other people call it ‘Working your butt off.’  I almost think of it as recreation.”

 

I was at a disadvantage.  Tim was at the top of his form, easily recognized as the top gymnast in the world.  Only Tor could challenge him, and Tor couldn’t quite make it.  Hal was the same.  He ran marathons like most kids run around the block.  He was the top of the top, and very few runners on earth could come near him.  A medal in Munich was all but assured, and very probably it would be gold.  I was not at the top of my form, and others were now beating my Olympic record.  I was going to have to work my butt off to make the team, much less win a medal.  But Tim had provided the motivation, simply by saying it was important to him.  If it was important to Tim, it was important to me.

 

I did start working my butt off.  My fellow club members quickly noticed my longer hours, more intense practice, and more consist high scores.  I was diagnosed with Olympic fever.  I knew better, it was Tim fever.  Regardless, I was headed for Germany.

 

Tim had gotten used to a big, anonymous university in Maryland.  I had not.  My background consisted of, after all, Rockford College and the University of North Dakota.  We figured about 3 UNDs and 4 Rockfords would be needed to equal the University of Michigan.  However, my doctoral program in the Law School was very small, so that I was able to retain the close contact with fellow students and faculty that I was used to.  Tim, on the other hand, was in a huge graduate program in the School of Education.   If it hadn’t been for his athletic prominence, he would have been invisible in the crowd–at least until the quality of his work made him stand out!

 

His first major paper, about the Greek Sophists, got published in a scholarly journal devoted to classical studies.  Graduate students frequently get papers published, but for a student in the School of Education to get a paper published in the Journal of Hellenic Studies was quite exceptional.  Well, my little kid certainly was exceptional, I didn’t need anybody to tell me that.  But the faculty in the School of Education did!  By the time he completed his doctorate, Tim would have a significant list of professional publications.   Poor Tim; UND was going to hire him whether he had a collection of publications or not.  However, Tim was driven to excel by some inner motivation, never as a means to advance himself.

 

Tim was asked by the Athletic Department to lead a conversation with all of the Michigan athletes who were expected to compete in various Olympic Trials.  There were about sixty such athletes and most of them showed up for the meeting.  Tim talked about life in the Olympic Village, the thrill of the Opening Ceremony, the practice schedule that he felt was almost an absolute prerequisite for Olympic success, his disdain for competitors for whom gold was so important that they hardly could accept silver or bronze, and much else from his personal experiences.  There were lots of questions, and a focus of the questions was disbelief in his practice schedule.  Most of these men and women were very good, and expected to perform at a high level in the Trials without a practice schedule any different from their present one.  Tim responded with the emotional feeling that the Olympics were special, and athletes expecting to capture Olympic medals needed to treat them as special.  By Tim’s estimate, about half his audience bought into that philosophy.  He also believed that that half of the group was much more likely to end up in Munich.

 

His stress on love and support from friends, family, and fellow athletes for the most part fell on deaf ears.  Tim, for whom a good night kiss from me the night before might make a difference between a 9.8 and a 10 on a difficult dive, simply couldn’t understand how the importance of love and support could be so ignored.  At home that night he told me, “You know, Charlie, Coach Burns told me that I might not fit in at Indiana, because of my very different attitude toward competition.  I think he may have been right.  I don’t think I fit in here.  And, Charlie, thank God I have you.”

 

The next afternoon in the gym Tim was approached by a young man who had been in the group the day before.  “Tim, I’m Martin Holtzer; I’m a wrestler, and expect to be at the Olympic Trials.  I don’t know whether I’ll make it to Munich.”

 

“Glad to meet you, Martin.  Can I do something for you?”

 

“I was really interested in what you had to say about the importance of love and support in athletic success.  I really think that’s my problem.”

 

Tim looked at Martin and then around the room.  Nobody was listening to the conversation, but Tim had the feeling that Martin really wanted privacy.  “Tell you what, Martin.  I want about another hour here.  When I finish I’ll go over to the wrestling room and find you.  Then let’s head out for something to drink.”

 

Martin nodded his understanding and headed off.  Tim continued his work on the vault and pommel horse for most of an hour, and then wandered over to watch Martin.  Martin was sparring on the mat with another wrestler, and seemed to be fairly good.  He was clearly in good shape with considerable strength.  When Martin’s round was finished he introduced Tim to his sparring partner, who seemed impressed that Martin knew Tim.  Martin and Tim headed to the locker room together.

 

Their lockers weren’t near each other, but they ended up in the shower room at the same time.  Tim couldn’t resist eyeing Martin, and it was obvious that Martin wasn’t resisting eyeing Tim.  Martin was six or seven inches taller than Tim, but not one bit longer where they were eyeing each other!  That made Tim a little big for his tiny size, and Martin quite small.  The moment passed, they washed and rinsed.  Tim indicated that they could meet in the lobby and they headed back to their separate lockers.

 

They met and walked to a little café nearby; Tim ordered Coke and a piece of pie and Martin simply ordered the “same thing.”  They were in a corner booth with nobody around.  Tim asked, “What’s on your mind, Martin?”

 

Martin was silent, looking like he was trying to decide what to say.

 

Tim asked, “You’re gay, aren’t you?  And deep in the closet?”

 

More silence, but Martin didn’t seem to take offense with the suggestion.

 

Tim asked, “Have you ever told anyone?”

 

“No.”

 

“Ever had a partner, even for a little fling?”

 

“No.”

 

“Do your parents know?”

 

“Oh, God, no.”

 

“Anybody.”

 

“You.”

 

“No one else.”

 

“No one.”

 

“No wonder you were taken by my comments about love and support.  You’ve never had either, really, have you?”

 

“Support; yes.  Love, no.  Oh, well, my parents love me.  But since they don’t really know who I am, I can’t really feel any support from their love.”

 

“You haven’t given them a chance.”

 

“True.  But if you heard my father talking about faggots you wouldn’t suggest that I should come out to him.”

 

“Bad, huh.”

 

“Real bad.”

 

“Minister?”

 

“My father learned it in church from our minister.”

 

“Teacher?”

 

“I don’t know.  Not in high school.”

 

“So you picked me?”

 

“Well, I knew you were gay.  Then I heard you talk about love and support.  I’ve read about you and Charlie.  Hell, I saw you two kiss when the band greeted you in the Diag last spring.  You really have guts.”

 

“And a pile of Olympic medals.  I am not sure what that has to do with being accepted as a gay man, but believe me, it does.  So, are we going to try to get you an Olympic medal?”

 

“I wish.”

 

“Just how good are you?  You must be pretty good, or you wouldn’t be  invited to the trials.  By the way, where are the wrestling trials?”

 

“Right here in Ann Arbor.  Thanks to Jim and Paul four years ago, Michigan had a strong claim on hosting the trials.”

 

“Do you know Jim and Paul?”

 

“No.  They graduated the June before I got here.  But I saw them wrestle.  I even saw the high school match when Jim beat Paul.  Say, you were in Mexico City; did you see their Olympic final?”

 

“Yep.  It was quite a match.”

 

“And they came away from it the best of friends, so I am told.”

 

“Yes.  They did.  They’re quite a pair.”

 

“It sounds like you might know them better that just as a fan.”

 

“I do.  Jim is one of my best friends.  I met Paul through Jim.  I was at that high school match you spoke of.”

 

“You were?  Neat.”

 

“You know, Paul was part of a group at his high school in Ironwood that protected two gay students that had been outed.  He’s quite a guy.”

 

“Is he gay?”

 

“No.  His wife is Amanda.  They’re happily married and living in Ironwood where he coaches and teaches.”

 

“I can’t believe you know Paul and Jim.  Where is Jim now?”

 

“Grand Forks, North Dakota.  He’s working for the University.”

 

“Teaching?”

 

“No, in some business function, accounting, I think.”

 

“Why North Dakota?  That certainly seems an out of the way place.”

 

“It’s a long story.  Why don’t you come by our house for dinner tomorrow night and that can be one of the stories that gets told.”

 

Martin accepted with some reluctance, as he didn’t want to be imposing on us.  Tim, in his usual enthusiastic way, would have none of that and insisted that Martin come.  He did, and I know with some certainty that it changed his life.

 

Tim came home that evening and told me that we were having Martin for dinner the next night.  After appropriate explanations of who Martin was, I said, “I think we could help Martin most be getting him together with Paul and Jim, or at least one of them.”

 

I suggested, “Let’s take a trip up to the UP in March.  We’ll visit Paul, check on the cabin–it’ll be too cold to stay there–and see who’s around camp.  Maybe we could get Jim to come over.”

 

“Oh, Charlie, that’s a great idea.  I can’t believe how supportive you are when I get on one of my ‘help the poor kid’ adventures.”

 

“I don’t really have a choice.  But your track record is pretty good: Hal, Billy, Sid, me.”

 

“Oh, don’t be silly.  But we can take credit for Billy and Sid.”

 

“You can.  I just follow along.”

 

Martin did join us for dinner the next night.  Right up front I made it clear that Tim had told me that Martin was gay, as were Tim and I.  When he finally got at ease with that, he found it quite comforting to have a conversation in which he didn’t have to be on his guard or hide anything.  Tim told him about meeting me at camp and the Gang.  

 

As the story unfolded Martin’s thoughts sprang ahead and he said, “And that’s why Jim is in North Dakota.  You’re heading there, and I suppose others of the Gang are as well.”

 

“All of the original eight of us, many of the additions.  I think some of the parents may as well.”

 

“My God, how lucky you are.  Here I am, and there are exactly two people who even suspect I’m gay.”

 

I said, “Where is home, Martin?”

 

“Ypsilanti.  About ten minutes East of Ann Arbor.  I grew up there and went to high school there.  That’s how I was able to see Jim and Paul wrestle while I was in high school.”

 

Tim said, “And you’re afraid that if you come out here, attend a meeting of one of the gay groups that are forming here, that it would quickly get back to Ypsilanti?”

 

“And to my parents.”

 

“And you’re financially dependent on them?”

 

“I’m not, really.  I have a full wrestling scholarship.  Other than a place to go on weekends and the summer, I’m pretty independent.  But, God, I’d hate for my parents to learn from one of their friends in church–that’s where it would come from.”

 

I said, “I never like the idea of coming between a man and his family.  But, Martin, your life is being shaped by your fear of your parents finding out you’re gay.  So tell them.  You’re an adult; they’ll have to deal with it.  If they can’t, you all lose.  But you are losing much more by living a life pretending to be someone you aren’t.”

 

Tim said, “Nobody expects you to make up your mind about that in a hurry.  But Olympic Trials will be upon us very soon, and we have to get you ready.”

 

“I’m ready.  I really am a pretty good wrestler.  I have an almost unbeaten record this year.”

 

“But you have been beaten, and that person is likely to be at the trials, right?”

 

“Yeah.  It’s two persons, one at Wisconsin and one at Illinois.  They’ll both be at the trials.  But three wrestlers go in each class, and I expect to be one of the three.”

 

“You came to talk to me in response to my comments about love and support.  You aren’t going to tell me that you are getting love and support as a wrestler.”

 

“No.”

 

“We have to fix that.  Early next month we’re going to take a trip up to Ironwood.  You can meet Paul.  Maybe Jim if we can get him there.  We need to build you a support group.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

I said, “Martin, you have just become Tim’s latest project.  Don’t try to fight it, you can’t.  And you don’t want to.  Just follow the leader, keep in step, and be prepared for an adventure that will just be starting in Munich.”

 

Tim said, “A week from Friday, we’ll drive as far as we can after class, and go on to Ironwood on Saturday.  We’ll have part of Saturday and Sunday there.  We’ll spend Sunday night at Camp White Elk if someone is there, and come home on Monday.  It’ll be fun.  Beats a slow weekend on campus.  And, Martin, it is going to be a life-changing event for you.  Are you on board?”

 

I’d heard Tim, or someone close, put that question to several people.  Tim chose his targets very carefully; he hadn’t been turned down yet.  He wasn’t this time either.  “I guess.”

 

I said, knowing that Tim would if I didn’t, “I guess, doesn’t cut it.  When you follow this particular Pied Piper it’s whole hog or not at all.  He’ll take, ‘I guess not,’ but not ‘I guess so.’”

 

Martin was silent for a short while, but then stood, smiled at us, walked over to Tim and said, “Hell, yes.  That’s the best offer that’s been made to me in my life, except maybe my wrestling scholarship.  I’d love to meet Paul and Jim in Ironwood.”

 

He got a big sloppy kiss from Tim, and didn’t have the slightest idea how  to handle the situation.  He teared up and sobbed.  Tim and I held him tight till the moment had passed.   Tim said, “Martin, you come out here when you feel it’s right.  But you are going to be out in Ironwood.  There isn’t anybody there from Ypsilanti, so you’ll be safe.  And you need to experience being out.

 

“Thank you, Tim.”  And Tim got a big hug.

 

Less than two weeks later we were on the road north.  It would be Interstate to Mackinac but two lane road across the UP to Ironwood.  It was just getting dark as we approached the big bridge at Mackinac, and I suggested that we spend the night in a motel on the south side.  It’s a beautiful bridge, and worth crossing in daylight.

 

As we looked for a motel–there were dozens but in March most were closed–Tim said to Martin, “Ok, Martin, you have a couple of decisions to make.  Do you want us to get one room or two, and if we are going to get one room what is going to happen?  I’ll explain.  Charlie and I are going to behave just the same whether you are in the next bed or not.  If our fun and games are going to bother you, get a separate room.  On the other hand, it is your decision how much you want to be included.  You can look, touch, or go further.  We won’t push you, and we won’t deny you–at least I can’t imagine your wanting to go past our limits.  The only decision you have to make now is how many rooms.”

 

“I’m a tightwad, if nothing else.  One room.”

 

I said, “One room, two beds.”

 

We checked in, I went to get ice and Cokes, and Tim settled in on the bed.  He warned Martin that at this point in a motel stay, you never knew what was coming.

 

I came back with the ice and Cokes and a little package.  Tim asked, “What’s in the package?”

 

“Get your clothes off.”

 

He did, with considerable alacrity.  “Now, what’s in the bag?”

 

I got out a wide, red Magic Marker.  “Lay down.”  He did.  I took the marker and laid out a tic-tac-toe board on his belly, making sure it extended as low as possible.  Then I got out some rubber blocks, some with Xes and some with Oes.  I tossed one to Martin and said, “You go first.”

 

He took the center square.  It wasn’t long before we realized that both of us knew the game too well; nobody was going to win a game.  I said, “Well, Tim, I guess you’re the big loser.  I was going to have the first winner give you an orgasm any way you wanted it.  I guess you’ll just have to be chaste this evening!”

 

Tim leapt up, flinging the blocks all over the room, grabbed me in the groin and said, “Then you will be, too.”

 

I said, “We did make some promises to Martin.  Keeping them might get us off the hook.”

 

“That isn’t fair to Martin.  Actually the game was pretty funny, and did pull Martin in.  We’ll go to bed in the usual fashion.”

 

Martin said, “Some of that went over my head.”

 

Tim explained the rules of the game, but noted that Martin’s presence really changed everything.  He went on, “Tonight is your night, Martin.  You can go in the bathroom, change into pajamas, and go to bed.  Or, you can do just about anything else, and we’ll go along.  If that’s your direction, I suggest getting your clothes off.  You can take them off, or, if you ask, we will.”

 

“Will you, please?”

 

He quickly replaced Tim on the bed and we slowly stripped him.  His dick was pretty small, but cute.  I decided that he didn’t need any comments about his size, and simply told him it was cute.

 

“Yeah, but pretty small.  I’ve spent enough time in locker rooms to know that.”

 

Tim said, “It’s about my size, and I’ve never had any trouble.”

 

I said, “In his life he’s fucked one boy and several girls.  All of us came away happy.”

I took off my clothes, and Martin stared and said, “You must be twice my size.”

 

I said, “Don’t say that, Tim thinks I’m just a tiny bit bigger than him, and we don’t want to disillusion him.”

 

That earned me a swift grab at my dick, but I pulled back just in time.  “You just wait,” said Tim.

 

Martin said, “I have been dreaming of something like this for years, and now that its upon me I am so embarrassed I don’t know what to do.”

 

“You’ll figure it out,” said Tim.  “But first, you have to tell us whether you want to go further.”

 

“My gut wants to say, ‘I guess so,’ but I know that you don’t like that response.  So: Yes, I sure as Hell do.”

 

Before he knew what was happening Tim was kissing him and I was massaging his balls.  I knew he would come quickly, so I asked, “Do you want me to suck you, or use my hands?”

 

“You’d suck me?  You’d let me come in your mouth?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Oh, please.”

 

He came so quickly that I hardly had a chance to get my teeth out of the way.  God, he was cute as he writhed on the bed.  Tim kept kissing him, and I held his dick in my mouth; inside those constraints he thrashed pretty hard.  Finally, he settled down and we let go.  “How was that?” asked Tim.

 

“You have to ask?”

 

“Not really,” said Tim.  “Let’s take a shower.  We’d like you to give both of us an orgasm, but you would probably like to recharge a little.  A shower would be nice.”

 

It was.  Martin wasn’t up to sucking, though he did lick both of our dicks a little.  But he used his hands and did an unskilled, but messy, job.  Tim and I like the mess, and that made up for the lack of skill.

 

We cleaned up, put Martin between us as we spooned, and drifted off to sleep.  At least Tim and I did.  When I last noticed, Martin was wide awake, thinking about what had just happened to him.  At least so I surmised.

 

Martin declined a rerun the next morning, and we were off.  He had never crossed the big bridge before.  It’s quite impressive.  At five miles long it takes a while to cross.  The center suspension span was, then, the longest in the world, and still is the longest in the Americas.  Martin just stared out the window as we crossed, but once we reached the UP side he said, “That was really neat.  To think I’ve lived my whole life in Michigan and never gotten up here.” 

 

I said, “Stick with us, kid, you’re going places.”

 

“I’m learning.”

 

As we rolled across the UP, Tim said, “Martin, I’ve been thinking about what I should tell you about Jim before we get to Paul’s.  He’s flying over from North Dakota with Amy.”

 

“Who’s Amy?  I thought I had read that his wife was named Kara.”

 

I said, “OK, here goes.  If you can ask the world to accept that you’re homosexual, and would like someday to have a male partner, then are you willing to accept that Jim is bisexual and has three partners?”

 

“Wow!”

 

“It was a question.”

 

“I guess so.”

 

“As you know, that is an unacceptable answer.”

 

Tim said, “In our Gang there are a number of unusual arrangements.  I realize that you are getting hit with a lot all of a sudden.  But Charlie’s question puts it exactly right.  To much of the world your desires are unconventional, but you ask to be accepted.  Can you be unconditional in accepting others?”

 

“When you put it that way, the answer is, obviously, ‘Yes.’”

 

“No, it’s not obvious.  I’ve met lots of gays that make a big deal out of monogamy.  In fact, they see it as the key to their own acceptance.  Like, ‘Hey, I may love a boy, but there are just two of us, and we’re going to settle down and pretend we are a nice, suburban, happily married couple, with one of us having the wrong gender.’  Well, Jim, Andy, Kara, and Amy don’t buy into that.  They love each other, and live as a foursome to the extent that the world will let them.  But they’re in the closet.  Sad, but true.”

 

“But they’re not in the closet with the Gang?”

 

“Oh, Hell, no.  If they didn’t have the Gang for support, I don’t think they would have tried their four-way.”

 

“Do their parents know?”

 

“The boys’ parents do.  Not the girls’.

 

“That’s sad.”

 

“Yes, it is.  To the world, and to the girls’ parents they are two married couples that share a duplex house.”

 

“So, in public Jim is married to Kara.  But among themselves, and with the Gang, he’s as much married to Amy as Kara?”

 

“Yes.  And as much to Andy.”

 

“Sex?”

 

“Lots of it, in every combination you can imagine.”

 

“I don’t think my imagination is quite ready for that.”

 

“That’s OK, as long as your acceptance is.”

 

“It is. I promise.”

 

“Good.  We were pretty confident of you.”

 

“Thanks, I think that’s was a pretty nice compliment.”

 

What a weekend.  Martin’s hero worship of Jim and Paul was just like Billy’s of Tim.  They got along wonderfully.  It was good to have a chance for everybody to get to know each other, including Amanda whom we were meeting only for the second time.  Everybody got along well, and we enjoyed learning a little of Amanda’s background.  She had grown up in Ashland, Wisconsin, and attended Northland College right in her home town.  The College was known for its environmental curriculum, and that had been her major.  She was in charge of environmental programs in the Ironwood schools, and that was where she had met Paul.  According to Paul, Amanda fell in love with him as fast as Tim had with me, and the marriage had been just as successful.

 

We soon headed for the high school gym, where Martin, Jim and Paul, could get down on the mats and wrestle.  Tim alternated between watching and using the mats to practice some moves in his floor routine.  I watched them all, and actually dozed on the mat for a while.  I didn’t know enough about what I was watching to make any judgements, except that there seemed to be plenty of grunts, groans and sweat.  They broke for dinner, and Amanda, with Amy’s help, had a wonderful meal prepared for us when we got back.  She said, “Paul is the better cook, but he had a good excuse this afternoon.”

 

Paul said, “I’m the better cook because I don’t let environmental considerations affect my food choices.  A good steak is a good steak.”

 

Amanda said, “I am now expected to say, ‘But it wastes good pasture land at a ratio of 5 to 1 over eating the vegetables directly.’  But I won’t say it.”

 

Paul said, “We have agreed to a peace treaty.  She cooks by her rules, and I eat; I cook by my rules and she eats.  Today, guys, she’s the cook.  Lots  of luck.”

 

Amanda was not, thank goodness, a vegetarian.  We had wonderfully cooked chicken with a most usual spice combination, and local vegetables that she had gotten the previous summer and frozen.  Dessert was frozen Michigan strawberries over ice cream.  We ate like kings.

 

As dinner ended Amanda looked like she was sort of preparing herself, and then launched into what might have been a prepared speech:  “Paul and I have done a lot of talking in the past ten days, since we learned that you all would be visiting.  After the three nights at the President’s house in Ann Arbor I asked Paul what he knew about the relationships between all of you.  It was a little startling to have Jim and Kara share a room with Andy and Amy, and I was pretty sure that at least one night some of them were in with you two.  Paul told me that he thought that your Gang was pretty close, and that probably you were into some sorts of group sex.  That was all he knew.  He did say that he knew for a personal fact that you all were the most wonderful people on earth, and that we were damn lucky to get to know you.”

 

Amanda’s speech continued, “Tim, when Paul got your call, asking if you could come and visit and bring a young, gay wrestler up from Michigan he wanted to say, ‘Yes,’  on the spot, but he thought that he should check with me.  I had been suitably impressed by you guys in Ann Arbor that I didn’t have any hesitation.  Then Jim called and asked if he could bring Amy.  Of course, I said, ‘Yes,’ but that got Paul and me speculating about why Jim would be coming with his friend’s wife.

 

“To make a long story short, Paul called Tim and asked him to fill him in on the relationships within the Gang.  Well, it took our breath away.”

 

Paul said, “Amanda, I remember when two boys were outed in high school and their friend Petey, who was a wrestler with us, came and asked the wrestling team to see to it that the two boys weren’t bothered.  The whole team helped.  It was my first contact with homosexuality.  I did learn that it wasn’t catching, and that they wouldn’t hurt me.  Then I met Tim, and I learned that our wrestling team was very much the exception, not the rule.  That made me very proud.  And I came back to Ironwood and told the team. Particularly since it came from Tim, they were really pleased with themselves.  I also shared the conversation with the principal and the football coach, who had been very much on top of insuring that there would be no nastiness toward the two gay boys.

 

“Then I learned that my good friends were involved in sexual romps that are beyond my imagination.  That Jim, Amy, Andy, and Kara have a four-way marriage.  That there is a three-way amongst the Gang as well.  And they all take it in stride.  Well, Amanda and I are trying, and learning.  You are all welcome here.  We only ask one thing, please respect our monogamy.”

 

Tim rose and said, “Well, I have been thinking of a few invitations that I’ll now have to forget about, but believe me, Paul and Amanda, if you can respect who we are, we can, and will, respect who you are.  I think that you might find that some of us might even be jealous; we know we have walked down an unusual path, and although it feels right for us, we all have second thoughts from time to time.”

 

Amanda said, “Well, come to think of it, when I look at the three sexy bodies in front of me, I just might have second thoughts, too.  But, no, Paul and I are happy.  And we are happy for you all as well.  Now, as to sleeping arrangements.  Paul and I have a king size bed, and if it’s going to do any good, it is going to have to sleep more than two.  We are moving to the guest room at the top of the stairs.  You all have to share the king, but there  is a single in the basement if someone wants to use it.  That’s the best we can do.  Jim assured us when we talked to him about Amy coming that that would do.  Have a good night.  Perhaps in the morning Paul and I will be brave enough to ask for a blow by blow account of the night.  Be prepared.”

 

“Wonderful!” said Jim.  The rest nodded agreement. 

 

I looked over at Martin and pointed first up and then down.  He understood, and pointed up.  I said to Amanda, “I don’t think we’ll be using the single bed in the basement.”

 

Paul said, “That was our prediction.”

 

As soon as we got up to the bedroom, Amy looked at us and said, “Somebody is going to fuck me tonight.  Maybe more than one somebody.”

 

I said, “That’s your choice, Amy.  But I think we need to talk a little to Martin.  “Martin, Tim believes that in every gay boy there is a little straight, and that in every straight guy there is a little gay.  Some won’t admit it.  Tonight you have a chance to find out, if you’d like.  If not, you can stick to boys like last night.”

 

Amy didn’t wait for Martin; she got up, took his hand, led him to the bed, and they lay down together, fully clothed.  “Martin, you don’t have to make up your mind yet.  Let’s just lay here and try each other out.”

 

They did.  Before he knew it, Martin was fondling Amy all over and she was in the process of removing his clothes.  He let her.  Soon they were naked together.  Amy said, “You can use your hand, your mouth, your dick, or pass.  I’ll show you, or one of the boys will.  What’ll it be?”

 

“I honestly don’t know.  Can we just lay here for a while?”

 

“Of course.”

 

After a while he said, “I think I’d like to fuck you.  Is it safe?”

 

“Believe me, I’m on the pill.”

 

“I’m going to need some help, I think.”

 

He got it, from the three men, who positioned him, aimed him, shoved him and cheered him.”

 

He fell over, exhausted on the bed.  He finally said.  “Thank you, Amy, and you guys as well.  It was nice.  I appreciate it.  But I learned that I really am gay.  That wasn’t half so exciting as last night.

 

Amy said, “Well, as far as I’m concerned you passed every test.  I’ll fuck you any day.  You’re a good sport, Martin.”

 

Amy was fucked by Tim and sucked Jim and me.  With that we slept, as best we could, five in a bed.

 

The next day we were back to the wrestling mats at the gym.  Amy, Amanda, Tim and I went along with the three wrestlers to watch for a while, then Amanda was going to show us around the town, but she had warned us, “There’s not much to see in Ironwood.”

 

Jim and Paul put Martin through his paces.  First one would spar with him and then the other.  Sometimes they did two on one.  After an hour, poor Martin could hardly stand up.  They gave him a little break and the two of them sparred for a while.  At this point Tim said, “OK, guys.  We know the Greeks competed nude at the Olympics.  Let’s see you guys try it.”

 

I figured that Jim and Martin might like that idea, but I wasn’t sure about Paul.  I also wasn’t sure about how Amanda might take to the suggestion.  However, it was Paul that responded first, “I’ve always wondered how that would work out.  I’m pretty skeptical, but let’s try.  Out of those singlets and jock straps you guys.”  With that he stripped.  He didn’t seem embarrassed at all, even with Amy and Amanda present.  The others were more hesitant, but eventually they joined him.

 

Paul and Jim went at it first.  They admitted flying balls were a little distracting, and they felt like they always had to be careful around the other’s genitals.  Martin said, “Let me try it,” and he and Jim went after each other. 

 

After about a minute of grunts and struggle, Jim could no longer resist.  Martin was on top of him, but unable to take advantage of being on top.  Jim was stuck.  So he grabbed Martin’s balls and said, “Move it or lose ‘em.”

 

Martin moved!  Paul said, “I don’t think that’s fair.”

 

Jim said, “Probably not, but nobody set any rules.  Besides it worked.”

 

At that point Martin came up behind Jim, reached between his legs, grabbed his dick and balls and pulled them back between his legs.  Before Jim knew what had happened, he was down, spun over, and pinned.  Martin said, “I like Greek style wrestling.”

 

Then Martin and Paul tried it, but neither of them decided to get frisky.   As their match ended, Jim said, “Let’s try it with just jock straps.  I kind of like the skin on skin feel when we’re naked, but the flopping balls are too distracting.”  They did try that, and found they liked it. 

 

Tim’s comment later was, “Jim’s exactly right.  There is something about two bodies being together skin on skin that’s very comfortable.  I can imagine that wrestling with strangers you wouldn’t like it, but those guys really liked it.  I think Amanda did too; she sure was watching Jim and Martin very closely, especially before they had their jocks back on.”

 

We broke for lunch, and the boys decided that they had had enough wrestling.  Paul said, “Martin’s good; there isn’t much we can teach him.  Besides, you were looking for a base of love and support, not skills, and I think he found it.”

 

The tour around Ironwood, and its twin town Hurley in Wisconsin, didn’t take long.  They were shells of their former selves when iron and copper mining were king and lumbering made lots of people rich.  Those days were long gone.  Some of the buildings left in Ironwood were pretty impressive, if you could imagine what they had been like in their heyday.  Today there wasn’t much, especially outside the summer season.  Snowmobiles were starting to revitalize the winter economy, but by the time of our visit, the snow season had past.  We were, in fact, in what the northwoods calls spring, and it is very definitely the worst season of the year.

 

Spring in the northwoods begins with two things: a few snows that melt quickly and serve only to make the unpaved roads impassible, and letters from “friends” to the south who have to remark about the daffodil, crocus, and forsythia blooms.  The snow turns to rain and the unpaved roads get worse.  In a good year there will be three or four nice sunny days that might pass as spring, and then all of a sudden summer and mosquitoes have arrived.  By the Fourth of July the June bug season has passed, the news of hundred degree weather in Chicago and St. Louis has arrived, tourist are spending money and all is well in the north.  This state of euphoria lasts until the wonderful fall color season passes in mid October.  Then nothing until snow and snowmobiles around Christmas and through February.  Then you’re back to awful springtime.

 

I asked Paul and Amanda if they ever felt like moving south and just spending summers in the UP.  They both agreed that they had a contribution to make.  Amanda said, “I feel sorry for the high school kids here.  There isn’t much to do, not much future, little incentive to go to college, incredibly easy access to alcohol, rotten sex education from school and parents; they are set up to fail.  Paul has really inspired some of the kids he works with, and the Olympic medal over his desk, right next to his Ironwood High School diploma says it all: Any kid from Ironwood can make it if he tries.  Paul tries to inspire them to try.”  For her part, environmental studies were key to the future of the region, and she was delighted to be guiding students into that potentially productive field.

 

We were due to head over to camp mid-afternoon on Sunday.  Jeff and Dick would be there, having driven up from Detroit for the weekend.  Jeff needed to go over issues of spring maintenance and repair, and Dick came along because he knew we were coming by on Sunday.  Jim was eager to meet Dick, as he had heard us talk about him, and Amy was always glad to have a chance to meet Jim’s friends.  Besides, she really wanted to see the famous Camp White Elk, even if it was still closed for the winter.

 

Paul said, “You know, I think Amanda and I would like to drive over there with you.  Would that be all right.?”

 

I was sure it would be, but I called Jeff and asked him if seven people descending on him would be a problem.  He assured me not, and we were on our way.

 

We had to drive two cars over to the camp, as Paul and Amanda would be coming back to Ironwood either late Sunday night or early Monday morning.  We were going to drive Jim and Amy to Sault Ste. Marie where they would fly back to Grand Forks; it was only a little out of our way.  Amanda had said, “You boys all ride with Tim and Charlie.  Amy is going to ride with me and we are going to engage in girl talk.”  And that’s the way we rode.

 

Amy told us later that Amanda was just full of questions about what it was like to live with another woman and two men.  Amanda had said, “Cleaning up after one man is bad enough, but two?”

 

“Oh, gay men are a little easier.  They are as likely to complain about our messes as we are of theirs.”

 

“Are they really gay?”

 

“Well, I think that technically we are all four bisexual, if we have to put a word on it, which we usually don’t.  Let’s put it this way, if the foursome broke up, which I don’t think is going to happen, Jim and Andy would remain a pair.  They fell in love that first summer at camp.  They’ve struggled with their desire for women ever since, but if push came to shove, their desire for each other would outweigh anything.  Kara and I are different.  We were attracted to the boys first, each separately.  We both soon found that we were second fiddle to Jim or Andy.  I think we were both about ready to can the whole thing when the idea of the foursome arose.  That brought us to two real questions: First, could Kara and I love each other, fully and completely?  Second, could a four-way work in this two-way world?  It just took one night for Kara and me to realize that we could get a real bang out of each other.  As for the four-way; we’re committed to making it work.  It will.”

 

Amanda had said, “That is so completely off the wall.  And so wonderful.  It makes me feel that I have to rethink everything I know about love, sex, and marriage.  I think Paul may be in for some late night conversations this spring.”

 

Amy said, “You know, you and Paul have something wonderful.  Don’t let our lifestyle be a cause for screwing up a marriage.”

 

“Oh, no.  Paul and I are committed.  But maybe we need to loosen up a little.  Who knows?”

 

“Who knows?  Well, this crazy Gang is the place to come when you want to experiment.”

 

In our car Paul really zeroed in on Martin and his sexuality.  Was he sure?  Was he comfortable being gay?  Did talking about it bother him?  Was he out?  Had he told his parents?  Why not?  When would he?  Was he comfortable with the multiple partner business that the Gang was sucking him into?  Did he get hardons around other wrestlers?  What about when he wrestled and was really close on the mat?  How did he survive the showers after practice?  Did he get hardons then?  Was he teased about it?  Did he think his fellow wrestlers would accept him if he came out?  Were there other gay athletes at Michigan (other than Tim and Charlie)?  He pushed and pushed and pushed.  I almost felt like I needed to come to Martin’s rescue, but he held his own very well.  Paul certainly made him think about a lot of the issues he was going to face.  Finally when he was done, Paul, who was in the middle of the back seat and right next to Martin, leaned over to him, wrapped his arms around him, and give him a huge, wonderful kiss, full of tongue and love.  I didn’t know Paul had that in him.  Martin responded in kind.  The rest of us just watched in awe.  When they finally separated, Martin looked at Paul and simply said, “Thanks.”

 

We were greeted at Camp White Elk by Jeff and Dick.  They were really glad to see us, and happy for the opportunity to show off the camp to Martin,  Amy, Paul and Amanda.  We had a nice dinner at Jeff’s cabin–it was really a house but because it was part of a northwoods camp it was usually called a cabin.  Paul was surprised to learn that his name was recognized in the area, but Jeff assured him that everybody in the UP knew of his Olympic medals.  “You’re considered a home boy throughout the UP.”

 

At dinner I sensed that people were holding back in their conversation, and I realized that we had among us people still somewhat in the closet.  I said, “I think I had better do some real introductions.  First, Jeff and Dick are lovers.  They are pretty much in the closet, but don’t plan to spend their lives there.  But while Dick is in school in Detroit, he is just a boarder at Jeff’s.  Martin is just in the process of coming out, and the only people who know he is gay are in this room.  Paul and Amanda are normal, whatever that means, but are aware of, and comfortable with, the sexual anomalies of all of the Gang.  And what we say here, stays here.  Everybody can trust everybody.  Does that clear the air?”

 

It did.  Jeff and Dick had lots of questions for Martin, and vice versa.  I  had told Jim that Jeff was gay, but they were meeting for the first time since then.  Jim welcomed Jeff to the club.  Jeff was a little puzzled, until we realized that he had never been told of Jim’s relationship to Andy, and subsequently to Kara and Amy.  That really blew his mind.  “And I thought I was being so open minded to accept Charlie and Tim, and Franklin and Phil.  Little did I know.”

 

Jim said, “You might like to ask about Ronnie?”

 

“What about Ronnie.  I thought he was married to Sharon?”

 

“He is.  And to Kyle.  Well, not married to Kyle, the law doesn’t provide for that.  But the three of them think of it as one big marriage, just like Andy, Kara, Amy, and me.”

 

“Holy shit.  That just blows me away.  Dick, how much of this did you know about these guys?”

 

“Not much.  I suspected that this Gang of theirs was pretty wild, but I didn’t know the details.  Honestly, it sounds wonderful.  Love flying around not getting blocked by a bunch of rules.”

 

Dick went on, “What are the sleeping arrangements for tonight?  Am I going to get my dreams fulfilled and get to sleep with Charlie and Tim?”

 

I said, “You’re going to leave Jeff out?”

 

“We’ve talked; he’s cool.”

 

Jim said, “I want to sleep with Jeff.  I think sleeping with my camp director would be completely unconventional.”

 

Jeff said, “If we do, nobody outside the Gang ever knows.”

 

“Right.”

 

Tim said, “That leaves Martin out.  And Amy.”

 

Amy said, “I don’t want to break up anything.  Martin and I are going to sleep together, and maybe Paul and Amanda will join us.  And more than likely we’ll just sleep.  That’ll be fine.”

 

Paul and Amanda looked at each other and both nodded slightly.  Paul said, “Martin, will you join our group?”

 

“If you had asked me that a week ago I would have thought you had lost your mind.  But, yes, I will.  And I’m not at all sure what I hope happens tonight.”

 

I turned to Jeff and said, “Jeff, I don’t know this cabin, have you got space for all of this?”

 

“Yes.  This was built to hold camp guests, so I have three bedrooms with queen beds and the master bedroom has a king.  I think that Paul, Amanda, Martin and Amy get the king.”

 

We talked for a while, catching up with Jeff and Dick’s lives, and sharing much of what we had been doing.  Before it got late we all headed for the bedrooms.  I reminded everyone that we had to have an early breakfast so that Paul and Amanda could set out on their hour and a half drive to Ironwood by six-thirty, in order to get to school on time.  Everyone groaned but Tim, but we all agreed to a 5:15 alarm.

 

Once in bed Dick was so eager for sex with Tim and me that we all had orgasms in a very few minutes.  We used hands and tongues, and I am not sure exactly who did what to whom.  At the end Dick said, “I’ve dreamed of that from that first day at Lake Superior.  Thanks.  Thanks a lot.”

 

The next day in the car Jim reported that he and Jeff had very gently fucked each other and had really enjoyed it.  Jim’s only hesitation was to make sure that Jeff and Dick had been that far together.  They had, and Jeff was as eager as Jim to fuck and be fucked.

 

Martin’s report on his group of four was eagerly awaited.  We all admitted that it was a pretty improbable group, and we all sort of felt guilty for leaving them that way.  But they had insisted, and went up to the master bedroom, nobody knowing what to expect.  When they were in the bedroom, Amanda spoke first.  “I am not sure what is going to happen tonight, but let’s agree that we can be comfortable without our clothes.  That really isn’t new for us.”  She led the group in losing her clothes.  Then she and Paul went into the bathroom together.

 

Amy came over to Martin and helped him finish undressing–he was being hesitant taking off his briefs.  She gently held his penis and said, “Martin, I know you don’t want to be involved in fucking tonight, and nobody will push you there.  Short of that, can you play along?”

 

Martin took up the story in the car and shared his answer to Amy, “I never said I didn’t like fucking you, Amy, only that I think I really prefer boys.  I have no idea what Paul and Amanda are going to suggest tonight, and I don’t think we should push them.  But where they lead, I’ll follow.”

 

Amy had said, “I agree.”

 

The bathroom door opened and Paul and Amanda came out.  Martin used the bathroom and then Amy.  Then all four were sitting naked, looking at each other, wondering where it would go.  Paul spoke, “Amanda and I talked, as you obviously know, and our first thought was that we would watch you two, and then you two could watch us.  That would not push Amanda and me over our line, but still give us all a sexual experience.  Then I realized that Martin really wasn’t into girls.  If he is going to have fun tonight, it will be with me.”

 

Martin had said, “I’m not going to push you where you don’t want to go, Paul.  You’ve been too kind to me.  Why don’t we all just go to sleep?  I’ll cuddle up with Amy and you two cuddle up together.”

 

Amanda spoke, “No.  When Paul reminded me that you would only enjoy being with him, I told him.  ‘Look, Paul.  It’s obvious where all this is going.  This Gang is the nicest bunch in the world.  You’re in love with them.  We aren’t going to hold this line.  We both know it.  But the question is, are you going to be comfortable in a gay relationship, even for just a night.’ Then he asked me, ‘Are you going to be comfortable with Amy, if we pair that way.’”

 

Then Paul stood up and said, “I’ll be very honest.  I’ve always wondered what it would be like to suck a dick.  Martin, can I find out?”

 

Amanda said, “Amy, let’s watch the boys.  Then you can give me some lessons and the boys can watch.”

 

In the car Amy said, “And that’s what we did, and we’ll let you all dream about the details.”

 

They were interesting dreams; at least mine were.