Lost Years (29 page)

Within three or four weeks—at the very most—Christopher had made up his mind that he couldn't, wouldn't settle in New York. His decision dismayed him, for it seemed to threaten his whole relationship with Caskey. Coming to New York had been chiefly Caskey's idea. He was at home there, it suited him perfectly and its discomforts he took in his stride. To attack New York was to attack the values he had grown up with.

But Caskey, to his surprise and relief, took Christopher's decision quite calmly; saying that he was beginning to feel much the same way. Since they were now planning to leave for South America at the end of the summer, they agreed to stay on at the Sterns' apartment till then and put off discussing where they should live until they had returned from the South America trip, sometime in 1948. Looking back, I doubt if Caskey was being quite sincere when he said he no longer liked New York. I think he said it to please Christopher. He certainly enjoyed himself there that summer—much more than Christopher did.

I feel a strong disinclination to write about Christopher's social life that summer. With a few exceptions, which will be dealt with separately, it's just a pattern of names with very few memories attached to them. Well, to be brief—

They saw something of Lincoln Kirstein and Auden, Berthold Viertel, Paul Cadmus, Tony Bower and van Druten
³⁷
—Christopher's friends—but a good deal more of Ed Tauch, Jack Coble, Bob Stagg. Bernie Perlin, Horst, Ollie and Isa Jennings, Ben Baz and Bill Bailey—Caskey's friends. This was because Caskey's friends tended
to be much more party minded than Christopher's. Most of them were included in one of two groups, the Tauch group or the Jennings group. Ed Tauch was an architect and he had a big house divided up into apartments which he leased to other architects, all friends of his and all gay. [. . .] Ed Tauch looked after his tenants like an uncle; he was the only one of these architects who knew how to fix the plumbing, gas, electric light and leaks in the roof He was quiet, friendly and still good-looking. Earlier on, in his navy uniform, he had been a dreamboat to many. I think Caskey himself had been violently in love with him, but only briefly.

Ollie Jennings was very rich, good-natured, fat. He lived in a fine house at Sneden's Landing (during the summer, anyhow). He had a divorced but friendly wife named Isa who lived in an even finer house, not far away. So both of them could offer cool luxurious out-of-town weekends, with lots to drink. Ollie's steady (to use the most unsuitable word possible) was Ben Baz [brother of Emilio, the painter]. Ben was small, red headed, not particularly Mexican looking, extremely lively [. . .]; a commercial artist by profession, quite a successful one. According to Caskey, Ben kept falling in love with people, coming to Ollie and telling him they must part, and then getting tired of that particular person and deciding to stay with Ollie. Ollie took all this in his stride and continued to love Ben—which moved Caskey to describe Ollie as “a kind of homosexual saint.” Ben's latest love was a young man [. . .] about whom I remember only that he was good-humored, adequately attractive but beginning to get plump. Ben's affair with [the young man] hadn't split up the household, however. [The young man] came down there to stay, nearly every weekend. He must have been exceptionally tactful.

It was during a weekend at Ollie Jennings's house that Christopher and Caskey went to have supper with the painter Matta and his wife. The evening was made memorable by one of Caskey's outbursts. Matta, thinking no doubt that he was thus putting Christopher and Caskey at their ease, made some casual reference to the fact that he, too, had occasionally had sex with men. This enraged Caskey, who yelled, “I suppose you think there's nothing more to homosexuality than just cocksucking?” The Mattas were scared and humiliated; they tried to placate him. This happened on May 17.

On May 27, Christopher got two paintings by Edward Burra on approval from the British-American Art Center. They were in the same frame, back to back with glass on both sides, so that you could display them in turns. One was a still life of vegetables and/or fruit with (I think) some landscape in the background. The other I can
scarcely remember. I believe it included some of Burra's mysterious figures with masked or hidden faces. Christopher and Caskey never made up their minds to buy this and it finally went back to the gallery. They did buy a small painting of carnival figures by Obin, the Haitian artist. Selden Rodman, who had brought back a lot of pictures from Haiti, sold it to them. I forget the price, but it was stiff.

On June 15, Christopher went to a Quaker meeting—perhaps the life he was leading gave him an appetite for it, as a contrast. He met Caroline Norment there. I wish I knew what Caroline's impressions were of this 1947 Christopher. Did she find him as much changed as he felt himself to be from the Christopher of the Haverford hostel? They had lunch together a few days later and worked hard at being friendly, no doubt. And that was the end of it.

On July 3, Christopher and Caskey went to stay with Horst, at his house in the country (I forget where). Horst's friend, Jamie Caffery, was a longtime friend of Caskey's; he had a queer uncle who then was or had recently been the U.S. Ambassador to France. Christopher liked Horst; he was handsome, well preserved, good-humored and good mannered. He had some thyroid pills which made you lose several pounds overnight; no doubt they were terribly bad for you.

On July 11, Christopher and Caskey set out by car to visit Truman Capote. They drove to New London (which strongly reminded Christopher of the industrial architecture of Stockport and Manchester) and spent the night there. The next night they spent at New Bedford. Next day, they took the steamer across to Nantucket.

Truman was staying with his friend Newton Arvin in a small house in the village of Siasconset. When Truman, in New York, had referred to “my friend,” Christopher and Caskey had pictured some mighty and potent brute as being the most likely kind of mate for him to have chosen. They were therefore surprised to find that Arvin was an intelligent and sensitive college professor, quite nice looking but definitely middle-aged. Arvin welcomed them hospitably and was no doubt pleased to see them, but he didn't sparkle, didn't get drunk, didn't want to go to parties. When they went out visiting, he stayed home and read. Maybe this homebody character was part of what Truman, the gadabout, wanted in a friend; maybe he needed someone to come back to. (Jack Dunphy, although quite unlike Arvin physically, also avoids party going.) As for the difference in Truman's and Arvin's ages, that apparently appealed to Truman. When he flirted with Christopher, and he did so constantly, he would say, “You're going to be
awfully
attractive when you're a bit older—another five years,
and you watch out
!”

As a host, Truman was like a masterful child leading a gang of children; he knew what
he
wanted, he was determined to enjoy himself, and he took it for granted that the rest of them would follow him. He never stopped to worry about his guests and whether they were enjoying themselves. And indeed it wasn't necessary. Nearly always, Truman's enjoyment swept them along.

Truman leading the outdoor life of Nantucket seemed quite different from the indoor exotic Truman whom Christopher had met in New York. Without his elegant freaky town clothes he looked much less odd and much more robust. He had a squat, sturdy body, golden brown and baby smooth, with surprisingly strong arms and legs.
³⁸
He was a powerful swimmer, and he liked cycling and horseback riding.

Several people Truman knew were staying at a house not far away—it was called Hagedorn House, I think. The host of this house party was Leo Lerman, the magazine editor, an almost classically Jewish Jew, bald, bearded, sly eyed, somewhat rabbinical in his manner, full of hostile mocking flattery, aggressive humility, shrewdness, rudeness, taste, vulgarity, wit and fun. He courted Christopher and charmed him, at first; Christopher felt at ease with his shamelessness. (Later they were to quarrel many times and never quite make it up.)

The other people living in the house were (as far as I can deduce from the day-to-day diary) Andrew Lyndon, Harold Halma, Helmuth Roder and Fritz Mosel.
³⁹
I am pretty sure that there were at least a couple of dozen neighborhood gays who were on call when they entertained.

Andrew Lyndon was a longtime intimate friend of Truman's. They were both from the South; Andrew's hometown was Macon, Georgia. He was slim, soft-spoken, brown eyed, attractively monkey faced, capable of bitchery and probably of cruelty; quite a southern belle. Harold Halma was good looking and well built and much more masculine; a weaker, nicer character. He was a photographer. Andrew worked in a bookshop. They had an apartment in New York. I don't remember how long they had been living together, but their affair was already on the rocks—that is to say, Harold was still very much in love with Andrew but Andrew had lost interest.

Caskey and Christopher saw Leo Lerman and his guests every day (it appears) during their stay in Nantucket. They had meals together or cycled or went swimming. (The current that swept around that part of the island made swimming exciting but safe; you could float and let yourself be carried by it, very fast and as far as you liked, without ever being taken out of your depth.)

Almost instantly, Andrew Lyndon started to get a crush on Christopher. Christopher, as usual, was flattered and didn't discourage him. Truman encouraged Andrew strongly, out of mischief Leo was voyeuristically entertained. Harold was jealous. Caskey wasn't; he didn't even resent Truman's effort to promote the affair—knowing, no doubt, that Christopher wasn't serious. And indeed nothing much happened between Christopher and Andrew—there was so little opportunity for them to be alone together, even for a minute. One afternoon, Truman, Andrew and Christopher went swimming in a lagoon, where boats were moored. Andrew, maybe hoping to start something, stripped off his trunks and put them on the deck of one of the boats. Truman promptly grabbed them and swam away—but not far enough to allow Andrew and Christopher any privacy. Only on the last night, when Leo gave a party and the lights were turned out so they could play hide-and-seek, did Andrew and Christopher manage to kiss and grope each other in the dark, but even this was quickly interrupted by Harold.

Next day, July 20, Caskey and Christopher returned by steamer to New Bedford, where they had left their car, and started for Cape Cod. They arrived at Provincetown on July 21.

Paul Cadmus and his current boyfriend George Tooker, Jared French and his wife were staying at Provincetown for the summer. So were Don Windham and Sandy Campbell. Caskey and Christopher saw all of them but not, I think, together. Maybe Paul wasn't on speaking terms with Don and Sandy—for Sandy had been Paul's lover and Don had taken Sandy away from him.

All I remember of this visit are two days on the beach with Paul,
Jared and George. It was a beautiful beach and quite secluded; they all swam and lay in the sun bare-ass—until suddenly a sightseeing jeep full of women would come plunging out of the woods, so fast that there was no time to cover yourself with a towel, even; all you could do was roll over on your belly and let them try not to stare at your buttocks. Another, more constant threat on this beach were the stinging flies. The New Yorkers took these as a matter of course, but they made Christopher and Caskey realize how lucky bathers are in California the (almost) Bugless.

Jared French took a lot of nude photographs of Caskey and Christopher. When these were printed, both of them looked ridiculous—partly because their worst physical features (the bandiness of Caskey's legs, the narrowness of Christopher's shoulders) had been unintentionally emphasized; partly because they had been so stupidly posed. Considering that Jared was an artist, he was a surprisingly poor photographer. Or was he merely inhibited by a private misgiving? Having suggested taking these pictures, did he suddenly feel that he didn't really know Caskey and Christopher well enough? This would explain an oddness which was apparent in nearly every photograph; the distance between the two figures was wrong. As a pair of lovers, Christopher and Caskey should have been closer together; as non-lovers who happened to be stark naked, they were too close. And what
were
they up to, why had they taken off their clothes, if not to fuck? They seemed hardly conscious of each other's presence, dully awaiting some cue or command to move, like animals whose actions are discontinuous and unrelated. The funniest picture showed Caskey halfway up a ladder; he looked as if he had already forgotten why he had started to climb it. Christopher stood below, ignoring him, with an expression of irritable uneasiness. . . .
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Jared apologized for the pictures and blamed the camera. Christopher and Caskey called them “hippos mating.”
⁴¹

On July 26, Caskey and Christopher drove back to New York.

On July 30, Caskey and Christopher had lunch with Anne, one of Caskey's two sisters. I can't now remember if this was the sister he disliked less or more than the other; he was basically hostile to both of them. I suppose Caskey had to entertain Anne as long as she was visiting New York; this would explain why he didn't accompany Christopher and Lincoln Kirstein on a visit to Auden and Chester [Kallman] on Fire Island that day.

Auden had taken a house in Cherry Grove for the summer, and Christopher had already been to see him there twice, with Caskey, during June. The house, like most of the others in Cherry Grove, was just a wooden shack. Its window screens were rusted by the sea air, and, since Auden and Chester were the housekeepers, flies buzzed over unwashed dishes, uncollected garbage, unmade beds with dirty sheets and a vast litter of books and papers. Neither of them was at all interested in the ocean or the beach as such. Auden spent most of his time indoors, Chester went out chiefly to cruise the population, which was wild and barred no holds. The one little hotel was jumping. Every time the ferry boat crossed the sound from the mainland to the island, a big crowd of residents would be awaiting it, on the lookout for new faces. Guitars twanged, wolf whistles and gay repartee were exchanged. The passengers were eager for the adventures ahead; they stared boldly at strangers who had taken their fancy. This was Watteau's Cythera brought up to date—only it was an arrival at, not an “Embarkation for.” At night, the noise from the bar could be heard all over the colony, and couples stumbled out of it and threw themselves down to screw on the sand, scarcely beyond the range of the house lights. No doubt the minority of elderly square homeowners objected strongly to all this, but at that time the only curb on sex activity was an ordinance which put the sand dunes out of bounds—not for moral reasons but because, in the hurricane of 1938(?),
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the dunes had been the only remaining refuge when huge waves washed over that part of the island; if the dunes were to get trampled flat by would-be fuckers and another hurricane were to hit Cherry Grove, all its inhabitants might be drowned.