They wrote it this week: Gazza’s public poos, and what Di was really like
Extracts from diaries and letters written between September 2 and September 8
1963, New York
I came back last night having spent Saturday and yesterday on Fire Island [a resort off Long Island much frequented by the LGBT community of the time]. I don’t really think I shall ever go again. It is lovely from the point of view of beach and sun and wearing no clothes, but the atmosphere is sick-sick-sick. Never in my life have I seen such concentrated, abandoned homosexuality. It is fantastic and difficult to believe. I wished really that I hadn’t gone. Thousands of queer young men of all shapes and sizes camping about blatantly and carrying on – in my opinion – appallingly. Then there were all the lesbians glowering at each other. Among this welter of brazen perversion wander a few “straights”, with children and dogs. I have always been of the opinion that a large group of queer men was unattractive. On Fire Island it is more than unattractive, it’s macabre, sinister, irritating and somehow tragic...