Finding Tim
A Fourth Alternate Reality
by Charlie
With editorial assistance from Dix and John
Gangland
A lot was going on in both of our lives that first year back in Grand Forks. It was nice to be back in our house, and the shower was as wonderful as we had remembered. We missed Felix' night visits, and hoped that he and Sam'l were united in heaven. One evening Tim asked, out of the blue, "What if all the fundamentalists are right, and Felix and Sam'l are burning in Hell?"
"I'm sure that they'd rather be together in Hell than separate in heaven."
"I know I'd rather be with you in Hell than without you in heaven, Charlie."
"Me, too, Tim. I don't know whether there's a heaven or a Hell, but I don't believe that my love for you could possibly have anything to do with my not making it to heaven. I can't believe in a God who would do that."
"Neither can I."
"Hug me, Tim."
He did, fiercely. If my memory serves me correctly, he did more than hug me that evening. A lot more.
Tim's speaking around the state was a huge hit. Rotary Clubs, the Lions, Jaycees, UND alumni groups, all were lining up to get him. Their program chairs have a super grapevine to let each other know which speakers are worth having. Tim was quickly picked as one of the best. He told great stories, dreamed wonderful dreams about the university and the state, and reminded them that money was the fuel that ran the entire enterprise. And it did start coming in. His speaking was producing a large quantity of small gifts, most in the 25 to 200 dollar range. His development group–he had his staff complete by Christmas as he had hoped–was a little disappointed in the size of the gifts. They pointed out that a huge pile of these little gifts left him far short of his goal of raising ten million a year.
Tim wasn't concerned. He explained to his staff that the purpose of his speaking was not to generate a lot of money. Rather, he wanted to generate widespread enthusiasm for the university. It was important that this be expressed in contributions, but size wasn't important. As with all fundraising, the bulk of the money would come from a few large donors. They had to be approached individually. But he hoped that each one that he approached would have two or three friends that had heard Tim speak and had been moved to send a check.
Of course, he hadn't expected to reach the ten million goal in his first year. Prexy would've been ecstatic at a third of that number. When the final accounting was in, Tim and his staff had raised 8.7 million dollars. That included Fred's anonymous million, which had been loaned to the development office for start up money. None of the rest of the contributions had to be touched to support development efforts, except for the 10% and 5% surcharges which were standard. Prexy and the trustees were delirious. So were Tim and I.
Every morning that Tim was in town found him either in the gym or at the pool, right at 6:00 a.m. on the dot. He was beginning to get a following of divers and swimmers joining him in the pool, and gymnasts in the gym. What made him even happier was the fact that a lot of them were there on days when he wasn't. His practice ethic was rubbing off. Wherever he was in the morning he was at the opposite venue at 3:00 p.m. The entire university got used to the fact that Tim would not be in his office after 2:45.
One day Mick came to town to write a story about Tim for Sports Illustrated. "It won't be a cover story, Tim. Retired athletes don't make the cover. But a lot of your fans are interested in you. And the fact that you practice as hard in retirement as you did as an Olympian will be of great interest. I'm interested, too. Why?"
"Mick, I've asked myself that. I do enjoy both sports; I like doing them. I like flying through the air, whether on a dismount from the rings or soaring off the platform. But I'll have to admit there's more. It was fun being the best in the world. It wasn't fun at the last Olympics realizing that I no longer was the best in the world in gymnastics. Of course, I've known for years that Billy was the better diver. But I'm still one of the two best divers in the world, and one of the dozen best gymnasts in the world. I admit I like that. And I don't have to be in active competition for that to be true. I know it. You know it. And I don't have to prove it to anybody. It won't last forever. I know that. But it's fun. It makes my heart beat faster as I get ready to dive or mount a piece of apparatus. It's been my life for so many years that I don't know what I'd do without it. I love getting up early in the morning, going to the pool, climbing up that ten meter ladder, doing the sport's most difficult dive, and realizing that it would be judged a 9.9 or a 10. That's neat. It's an adrenalin rush. It makes my day."
Mick said, "Mike's going to be here tomorrow. He wants to take some pictures."
"No Sports Illustrated staff photographer?"
"Mike is a Sports Illustrated staff photographer, and none of the others have ever taken as good pictures as Mike, starting while he was in high school with you. You knew that, and I had to learn it. So did our photo editor. Mike's the top of the heap; picks his own assignments. And if there are to be pictures of Tim, Mike's going to take them."
Mike and Tim had a great reunion the next day. Mike shot rolls of film at the pool and in the gym, and elsewhere on campus. One of Mike's campus shots would be Tim's first picture in Sports Illustrated in a coat and tie. Times were changing.
Prince and Sid became inseparable. Prince claimed the attic in their new house and Carl designed skylights to be cut in the roof to let in light. It became Prince and Sid's art studio, and they spent hours there. Prince did play basketball, and Sid did his homework during Prince's basketball practice. Sid attended all of Prince's games, and sketched the players, fans, cheerleaders, everybody. At lot of his sketches appeared in the Central High School student newspaper, the Centralian, and the Herald.
If you visited Sid's studio, as Tim and I often did, and you were one of Sid's trusted friends, which Tim and I were, he would show you his "special sketches." Actually, Prince was more likely to get them out than Sid, who seemed a little embarrassed. Sid like to sketch the basketball players and others, and had a wonderful collection. But he liked to sketch them nude. He'd produce about five or six sketches each game, and one of them would be a nude. Of course, none of the boys ever posed for him, but he made it his business, from time to time, to be in the gym shower room when basketball practice ended. That would let him glimpse the players naked, and allowed him to sketch pretty realistic pictures of them nude. He had a knack of picturing a dick or balls flying loose as a boy stretched for a rebound or passed the ball. The stuff was really good, definitely pornographic, and unable to be displayed anywhere. But Sid and Prince got a kick out of it, along with trusted friends, including Tim and me.
His "special sketches" were mostly of basketball players, but not entirely. A couple were of cheerleaders, but he had to admit that his portrayal of their private parts was pure imagination–especially the color of their bush. He had a picture of the school principal that was equally imaginative–I can't believe that he had a penis larger than Franklin, but that's what Sid had imagined. One sketch was really a hoot. It showed the cheerleader team. The team was mostly girls, but had five boys whose main job was to build a human pyramid, six high–three boys on the bottom, two on their shoulders, and a girl on top. Sid's sketch showed the bottom row of boys in jock straps, and the middle row naked, and hard as rocks. The naked girl on top, rather than standing on their shoulders was perched on their hard dicks! Sid admitted that his imagination had run a little wild. Prince loved the picture. So did Tim and I.
April had seen the pictures and hadn't been too sure what to make of them. But she had decided that they were harmless, as long as Sid kept them to himself and very close friends. He was not, she ordered, to show them to his sisters, and he obeyed that injunction completely. He knew when not to cross his mom.
Franklin and Phil had helped take care of Prince and Princess, as well as Sid, Tish, and Mona when Prince's family had come to town to interview. They'd all remained good friends of Phil and Franklin. In fact, Sid had grown quite close to Franklin, who'd become his mentor as he worked his way through the trials of adolescence. So Franklin and Phil had been shown the "special sketches" as well as Tim and I. That would lead to a special project undertaken by Sid and Franklin, but more of that later.
In February Sid and Prince, and their parents, headed to New York for the boys' show at the New Finds Art Gallery. The gallery had hoped to open the show in January, but they had scheduling difficulties and couldn't have the opening until February 15th. People weren't falling all over themselves to buy the paintings of these two unknown artists, but attendance was good, the reviews quite nice if not raves, and a few paintings were sold. New York gallery prices go a long way in Grand Forks, and Sid and Prince were glad to pocket about $400 each. Their pictures would remain in the gallery for sale, and eventually they each made over $2,000 on this batch of pictures. Much more important was what it did for both their egos and their reputations. They were already planning shows in Fargo and Chicago, the latter being set up by Mr. Stilson at the New Finds Gallery. For high school students this was extraordinary. Their art teacher at Central High was ecstatic. Sid seemed to take it all in stride; Prince was simply bubbling with pride. It was interesting to watch their different responses to their success.
One day after school Franklin decided to fulfil the role of mentor for Sid. He met him after school and walked home with him. Franklin had picked a day when he knew that Prince would be involved with a lengthy basketball practice. Franklin was just checking with Sid to see how things were going. Sid was in a good mood and told Franklin all about his trip to New York and his dreams about being an artist.
"Do you think you can make enough money to live?"
"I don't know. It may be tough, but I think I want to try."
"What does your mother think?"
"You really want to know?"
"Sure."
"She thinks it's better than dealing drugs, which's what she was afraid I'd be doing back East."
"I think I agree with her. But here in North Dakota you certainly have options between those two."
"I agree. And who knows what I'll think when I finish college."
"Where're you thinking of going to college?"
"I don't know. There's a strong incentive to stay here in Grand Forks. I can help Mom with the girls; you guys are here; and it'll cost a lot less."
"You know, Sid, that Fred's going to pick up the college bill, regardless of where you go."
"You have to be kidding. I couldn't accept that."
"We all have had to learn to accept Fred's generosity. He'll be very hurt if you and Tish and Mona don't let him put you through college."
"I'll have to think about that. But even if money isn't an issue, I'm not sure about college. UND doesn't have the world's best art department."
Franklin said, "Yes, but it's kind of fun to be the top of the heap, isn't it?"
"You got it."
Their conversation meandered through a number of subjects until Franklin asked, "How's your love life?" expecting a sort of pro forma answer.
He got, "Not good. It's been the only bad part of life in Grand Forks."
"Want to tell me about it?"
"I guess. You know, my sisters and I have had almost no racial incidents since we came to town. In fact, being black has had advantages. Then last fall Prince and I decided that spending time with only each other had disadvantages. We agreed that we'd start dating girls. Prince has had some success, but he doesn't have any kind of a steady girlfriend. I asked a couple of girls out and got turned down. Then I dated the only two black girls in the school my age. The dates were fun, but they weren't interested in the things I was interested in, and vice-versa. Then Cathy Garver and I went out on a couple of dates; she's one of the best art students in our class. That brought on a number of kind of nasty comments from a number of boys, of the nature of 'You'd better leave our girls alone.' I told Cathy and she was shocked, but then she got some similar comments from some of her girlfriends. I guess niggers are OK, provided we don't mess with white women."
Franklin was shocked. "Sid, I don't really know what to say. But you're right. You are pushing some people's limits when you date a white girl. It's like Phil and me, we can be partners, but we'd better not be doing a lot of kissing in public."
"What about Tim and Charlie? They do."
"Yeah, and if you were the starting quarterback for the Vikings, you could get away with dating white women."
"Sorry, Franklin, bad example. Pro quarterback isn't a position open to blacks. There have been a few for brief periods, but right now James Harris with the Rams is the only one, and he shares the position with three white guys."
"I'm sorry, Sid. It wasn't too bright a comment."
"Look, Franklin. Life here is so much better than Washington, I'm not going to let this get to me. Hell, in the right places in Washington they wouldn't make nasty comments, they'd shove a knife between my ribs. Things will change, just like someday there will be a lot of black quarterbacks."
"You're quite a kid, Sid. Let me ask you something else. I'm thinking about all those pictures of naked basketball players you've drawn. You seem to like drawing dicks. Any sexual interest there? Are you at least a little bit gay?"
"I know you and the Gang switch off from time to time. I know you think that most people are a little bit of one and a lot of the other. I guess that's true for me. Boys turn me on a bit, but I've never done anything about it. Hell, I've never been able to do anything about the fact that girls turn me on more than a bit."
"You and Prince spend a lot of time together. Ever been tempted?"
"Yeah. I've hinted to Prince. Oh, Hell, I more than hinted once. But Prince proves the rule. He's 100% heterosexual. He was real nice about it, but made it clear that I was going nowhere with him. I haven't mentioned it again. No is no, and I respect that. So I'm still Lonesome Sid."
"I'm sorry, Sid. But your time'll come. I remember Charlie telling me that. I thought he was crazy. But then Charlie brought Phil into my life. Things'll work out for you, too."
"Thanks, Franklin."
"Sid, any time that I can help, if only by listening, let me know. The entire Gang is available, but I'd like to stay your sort of special friend."
"I love you, Franklin."
"I love you, too, Sid."
It wasn't long after Christmas that Tim got a call from John Flitkin in Hollywood. On our visit there he had talked about doing a documentary about Tim, and he was following up on the conversation. Tim was interested, but realized that it was going to take quite a bit of his time. Flitkin carried the day when he announced, "Look, Tim. I want to tell the story of a fantastic athlete in two sports. That makes you quite special, particularly since you got Olympic gold medals in both sports. But the real story is that you're a very public gay athlete, with a wonderful partner whom you don't hide. His Olympic medals simply ice the cake. Not only do I not want play down your being gay, on the contrary I want to make that the focus of the story."
Could Tim turn that down? What do you think? He didn't even bother with his usual request for my opinion. He simply said, "When do we start and what do I need to do?"
The answer was fairly simple. "It'll take me about a month to get things started. Then I'll send a couple of scriptwriters out to North Dakota to work with you and get a script drafted. I don't know whether they'll want to interview you and your friends there and come back here and write, or simply move there for a while. In any case, it'll take at least six months to get a script. It'll be another three or four months to get ready for production. We'll shoot new footage and use a lot of archival footage. I don't know where we'll shoot the new footage, probably in a variety of locations. I guess that means Minneapolis, as well as Grand Forks, Washington, Ann Arbor and that camp up in Michigan, and other towns I don't even know at this stage. But I'm way ahead of myself. Just work with the writers for now. I guess I can find a couple that'll work in North Dakota."
"I found three good ones. You could borrow them."
"Are you serious? You've got the Hunters out there, don't you?"
"Yes, along with Alan Cohen."
"I wondered where he'd gotten to; he's with you, huh?"
"Yes, and doing a great job. All three of them are."
"Are they really available for loan?"
"Sure. They're legally the employees of a guy named Fred Milson–the Fred of Fred's Sports. I'll bet he'd like to invest in the project, and part of that investment could be the writers."
I don't need to lay out all the details of how this worked out, do I? Fred simply smiles and things happen, and that's what happened with the financial planning of Tim'nCharlie as the film ultimately was titled."
Flitkin flew out and talked with Tim and the writing team, laying out his ideas for the movie. Then he said, "OK, write me a good movie. I don't want to be involved again until you have a script you're proud of and that Tim's happy with. Then ship it to me."
AAA told Tim that they wanted to think about the project for a while before they talked with him. About ten days later they asked him to join them in the conference room in "The Fort"–the nickname all of the occupants used for Fred's transitional office building. How it came to get that name is unknown, at least unknown to Tim and me. Arlene took the lead in the conversation. "Look, Tim. This is really difficult. But Arlo, Alan and I've talked a lot, and we think that we simply have to crawl into your head and your life for quite a while. If we don't understand how you tick, we can't really tell your story. That means almost moving in with you and Charlie. It means...." She hesitated.
Tim picked up on her hesitation, "I get the picture. Since this is about a gay couple, you feel you really have to understand a gay couple and that means bedrooms. You have to understand the gay athlete, which mean locker rooms and showers and stuff. And you aren't sure just how far you dare push this request. And then there's the problem that one of you is a woman–one who doesn't want to be excluded from a very important part of your research. Have I just about got it?"
"Exactly," said Arlene.
"On the button," said Arlo.
"And the reason that Arlene was delegated to open this conversation is that you all are afraid that, being female, she might be the main barrier."
"Yes," admitted Alan.
"OK, said Tim. I need to talk to Charlie and the rest of the Gang. You'll understand about the Gang very early in your research. You've certainly heard me talk about it, and probably have read about it in some story, but you haven't really appreciated the full implications of the Gang yet. You will. I'll get back to you."
They talked some more about their ideas for the film, but they said that their real intention was to try to get to really know and understand Tim and me before they filled out their concept of the film.
Tim invited all of the Gang who were resident in Grand Forks for dinner the next week. Could they stand three silent observers, who would be welcome to watch every aspect of all of our lives? Nothing held back. No doors closed. Living rooms. Classrooms. Gyms. Locker rooms. Dining Rooms, Kitchens. Bedrooms. Bathrooms. Shower rooms. If so, what rules did we have to impose?
After some discussion these were our rules: Come and go as you please. Go wherever you want. Watch and listen to whatever you want. Only one observer at a time. Everything is totally confidential. The Gang gets total script approval. In public places, expected decorum applies, e.g. Arlene doesn't go into the boys locker and shower rooms; Arlo and Alan stay out of ladies rest rooms and girls dormitories. AAA will always remain as inconspicuous as possible, never comment, and never even think of participating. If they feel the need to come into a private shower room, they either wear a swim suit or get their clothes wet, but no disrobing; in public locker room showers they would simply follow the crowd.
They agreed. By this time Tim knew them well enough that he trusted their promise of total confidentiality. Nothing but the final script was to be shared with anyone, and the script was to be reviewed by the Gang before it went anywhere, including to John Flitkin. Flitkin had to understand the plans, and the rules, and accept that he was outside the confidentiality circle; he would only see the final approved script.
John agreed, saying, "Give me a first class script and I don't care how you produce it and I don't need to know anything except that it's a good script.
This went on for six months, from May through October. We gave them keys to our houses and offices and they came and went at all hours. If we had a meeting, one of them would be in a corner. If I met with Hamilton, someone would sit in. Of course, Prexy, Hamilton, and others had to agree, but Tim persuaded them, and vouched for their ability to keep things confidential. Hamilton did have to impose one rule: If the conversation turned to individuals that had a legal right to privacy, the observers had to leave. That was easily agreed to.
It took a month before they were able to totally blend into the background. At first, if Tim and I were having dinner, we'd invite Arlo, or whomever, to join us. The answer was always, "I'm not here. I don't eat. I don't drink. I don't talk–if I can help it. Ignore me." It took a month. About ten days into May when Tim and I went up to bed there was Arlene sitting in the corner, dressed in a black pants suit. I said, "Hi," but she ignored me. I'll have to admit that it was a little awkward having sex with Tim that night, especially as he took advantage of the situation and asked me to jack off while he watched. It was perfectly obvious to both me and Arlene that this request was for her benefit, but I complied and she remained silent. By June, she and the others had almost faded out of consciousness.
About the third week Arlene followed us into the shower. She did get wet, very wet. I'll have to admit, again, that our behavior was affected by our desire to get her wet. Again, by June we'd gotten over that.
Once AAA figured out how integral the Gang was to our lives, they started paying similar visits to the rest of the Gang, including the POGs. We all compared notes and realized that everyone was having great success in going on with their lives while being observed. The members of the Gang who didn't live in Grand Forks were visited and interviewed, but they didn't get the same treatment, except for Jeff and Dick. Alan had headed to the camp in July and realized that with camp in session the kind of observing he wanted wouldn't be acceptable. So he did in depth interviews, and arranged to visit again after the camp closed for the season. He spent about five days with Jeff and Dick, giving them the same scrutiny that we had been given. He also interviewed Dick's mother to get her reactions to Tim and me.
It was a mammoth undertaking, and they had to keep up with their speech writing as well. But they seemed to be thriving on the challenge. At the end of September they announced that it was over, and they gave back our keys. Nothing more was said about the project for about a month. Then the questions started. They hadn't wanted to influence us with questions before their observations. Now they had questions galore. They met with individuals and groups. They sometimes came singly, sometimes as a pair, and sometimes all three. This went on until Christmas, 1975.
At that point Flitkin flew in and we had a meeting: Flitkin, AAA, Tim, me, and Fred. Arlo said, "I know we're behind your schedule, John. But we need to delay the project about nine months to a year. We have some great ideas, and we have a draft script, but we aren't ready to show it to anyone. More important, next summer the Olympics will be in Montreal and Tim'll be competing. We'll get a camera crew there to make sure that we get just the pictures we need, rather than having to work with news and sports footage. And, we'll get to observe Tim and the others in the Olympic setting. Nine months to a year from now you'll have your script."
John wasn't happy with the delay; he would have liked to release the film during the Olympics, but he agreed. It was obvious that AAA's proposal was going to produce a much better movie.
And so the movie faded out of our consciousness as Tim added preparing for the Olympics to his crowded schedule.
Going back in time a few months, Jeff, Stanley, and Dick came to visit in March of 1975. They wanted to talk to Tim and me about the coming summer at Camp White Elk. Dick would graduate from Wayne State in June, and as far as Jeff and Stanley were concerned it was time for Dick and Jeff to come out. Dick wasn't so sure. He didn't want to be responsible for a backlash that might injure the camp. Stanley wasn't concerned. "We survived Tim; we lost a few campers, but we gained some too. Furthermore, the camp isn't worth running if it's part of a lie."
Dick pointed out that Stanley no longer depended on the camp for a living. Jeff did.
Jeff was in Stanley's camp: he was damned if he wanted to live a lie. There really wasn't any doubt that that position was going to win out, and they weren't in Grand Forks to continue that debate. The question that they were asking our help with was, "How do we come out, and exactly when?"
Tim asked, "I take it that you expect to be living together in Jeff's cabin as soon as Dick arrives following graduation?"
"Right."
"So you really have three options. You can specifically inform people as they arrive, or soon after arrival; you can just get on with life and let them figure it out, letting the grapevine do its work; or you can send some kind of communication before camp opens. Are there any other options?"
"Not really, said Jeff."
I said, "Well, what're the pluses and minuses?"
Dick said, "There aren't any pluses; it's a matter of comparing the minuses."
Tim said, "Whoa. Honesty's a big plus. Being publicly gay-friendly's a plus. Welcoming gay campers is a plus."
"OK, but don't those apply to all the options."
"Not really. Informing people early allows the pluses to accrue this year. Letting the grapevine do its job is a little short on honesty."
Stanley said, "It seems to me that the two big minuses are: If we notify people in advance they wonder why we're making such a big deal of it, and it gives the people who are going to be upset a chance to withdraw, raise a ruckus, whatever. On the other hand, if they don't find out till they arrive, they may feel they've been sandbagged."
I said, "I'm for an announcement ahead of time, I think. How would you do it?"
Tim said, "What if Jeff were getting married? How would you announce that?"
Stanley said, "We'd run articles in the Camp White Elk Newsletter. Before the wedding we'd run an invitation to all, and after the wedding a story with pictures."
Tim said, "There you have it. You two have been engaged, and now you're getting married, well, committed. Run an invitation, have a commitment service–either in Detroit or at the camp–and run the story with pictures."
Jeff said, "I can think of a number of parents whose minds would be blown by that story."
Stanley said, "And I can think of some that would call their friends and say, 'This is a camp we have to support.'"
Jeff said, "Look, we have to be honest. We're going to lose more than we gain. The question is, can we survive?"
I said, "Long term survival isn't going to be helped by playing this down. It might help this year, but those that feel sandbagged won't be back. The question is, are there enough campers out there that'll be comfortable in a gay-friendly camp?"
"And whose parents are willing to send them to a gay-friendly camp?"
Stanley said, "I think so. I know this is more dramatic than Tim's being a camper and Charlie a counselor, but we really didn't have a net loss of campers then. And we've always been proud of our connection to you two guys; it's never been hidden. Hell, there are pictures of you two all over the place."
Tim said, "OK, where's the ceremony going to be?"
Dick said, "Camp White Elk."
Jeff said, "Sounds right to me."
"When?"
"Right after graduation."
"Invitations go out in late April," said Dick.
I said, "When's the cancellation cutoff for enrolled campers?"
"May first," said Dick. "Should we send the invitations after that?"
I said, "Definitely not. I asked the question, because I think you must be ahead of your deadline. Otherwise it looks sneaky, and might be very negatively interpreted. You don't want campers coming under duress, and you don't want people angry because they're losing the fees they've paid in advance."
Dick said, "They do lose $50."
"That's OK. You don't have campers for whom that's going to be a big deal."
Dick said, "Will you two come to our commitment service at Camp White Elk?"
Tim said, "As long as you avoid UND graduation, we'll be there."
That night Stanley slept peacefully in one of our guestrooms. Tim and Dick slept in the other and Jeff and I slept in Tim's and my bed. It was relatively peaceful.
Carl's design for the Alumni Towers was masterful. Picture a tic tac toe board. The middle square is a garden on the ground floor and an open atrium up the eight storeys of the building. Each floor above the ground floor consists of the eight other squares, but on the ground floor, only the corner squares are filled in. The middle squares are open walkways leading past elevators and a reception desk to the central garden. The top floor is an Alumni Lounge and restaurant. Tim hired a good local restauranteur to run it on a break even basis. The man worked part-time managing the Fighting Sioux Inn and the rest of the time running his own restaurant–one of the best in town.
Two floors are hotel rooms for visiting alumni, also usable by guests of all university offices, but alumni have priority in bookings. There are four stories of offices, only two of which Tim needed at the beginning for the Development and Alumni Offices, Development Consulting, and North Dakota Dreams. Prexy was allowed to put other university functions in the other two floors, but only until Tim needed them! Tim demanded that in writing.
The building opened in the fall of 1975 and got rave reviews in the architectural world. Carl won a couple of significant awards and prizes for its design. "On time and under budget," were impressive features that appeared in most of the reviews. The fact that it had been built with NO change orders was simply unheard of. Carl's new firm was on its way. Carl had used his entire staff on the building, but, as Carl had guessed, Dirk easily proved to be the best of the lot. Most of the key design work had been done by Carl and Dirk, each of them insisting that the fundamental design had been the other's work. I truly believe that it can fairly be called a joint effort. However, because Carl was the owner of the firm, the prizes were in his name.
His own building rose just behind Alumni Towers, and got even better reviews when it opened in February of 1976. In fact, he had a trail of architects that came to see the building after reading about it in several architectural magazines. It was designed precisely to meet the needs and desires of architects and draftsmen, with light, desk space, adequate storage, conference areas and facilities all carefully thought through. Carl loved to show it off.
As for future commissions, Carl was already in need of more staff. This time around he was looking for senior architects with solid experience behind them. He'd found that his young staff was long on exciting ideas and a little short on detail and follow-through. He needed to balance things. With his design successes, and Fred's willingness to fund top level salaries, he had no problem filling out his staff as he needed. He and Dirk occupied the top floor of "The Carl" as he had named his building. The building had opened with just the first and fifth floors finished, but he was already working on the interior design for the fourth floor. Franklin's father, Peter, currently had an office on the first floor, but would move to a very nice fourth floor suite as soon as it was finished. Fred and Carl simply wouldn't accept rent from Peter. Tim and I assured Peter that he should neither feel guilty nor expect to be able to change the arrangement–just accept it. He should, of course, be prepared to provide free truss design when and if Fred needed it. When Fred heard that, he responded, "I think you're trying to be funny, but you forget that Andy and I are building a lot of new stores."
Peter simply said, "Free truss design is always available." Since large retail spaces nearly always worked under flat roofs, the offer was rarely accepted.
However, one store in a mall near Chicago did require roof trusses to fit into the mall design. When Fred was working with the architect he mentioned that Peter was available for truss design as needed. The architect had said, "Of Truss Designs, Inc.?"
"I'm pretty sure that's his corporate name."
"He's the best in his field. Architects line up to get design work done by Peter."
Fred said, "Well, go to the head of the line. Just let me know what you need, and when; I'm sure that we'll get on time delivery of his best work." They certainly did, much to the delight and astonishment of Fred's Chicago architect.
Speaking of on time delivery, Carol did the job perfectly. Nelson, at 5 pounds, 3 ounces, missed the doctor's predicted delivery day by one day. Actually, I think the doctor would've predicted the actual date, but had wanted to avoid Leap Day. But here it was, a Leap Year baby, born about noon on February 29, 1976, to two proud parents and an almost infinite number of aunts and uncles who were so proud of him they almost burst.
Prince and Sid may not have been sexually active, but Hal and Sue certainly were. Easter of 1976 was the occasion of their big announcement. We'd all gathered at Fred's for an Easter dinner that only Fred could host. Except that the buffet table was built as solidly as a sequoia, it would've sagged and groaned under the weight. In Fred's words, "Ham is great and traditional; so there it is. But we all know that growing boys need roast beef, so there it is. If you don't like the stuff rare, eat ham. To which Franklin interjected, "That's not rare, it's raw."
Tim said, and I thought, "All the better." There was everything else that you could imagine as well. The problem with putting a feast like this before the Gang was that we were all very conscious of staying fit, so we had to work hard not to overindulge. Luckily, Fred understood us, so he refrained from the typical host's urging of "Have some more beef," and "Wouldn't you like both ham and beef?" I could never have restrained myself if my little conscience hadn't gone through the buffet line right with me. I don't think it was planned, but it certainly helped me restrain myself. Then again, Tim didn't do much in his life that wasn't planned.
When we were all seated, Hal stood up and asked Sue to stand next to him. He pulled up her blouse to expose her belly, which really wasn't showing anything yet. But across the front, right across the belly button, was written the word, "Baby." Hal said, "What more is there to say? It's due in October." We all applauded, and before the meal was over we had all kissed both Sue and Hal. She, or he, would be the fourth baby born to the Gang. We were all enthusiastic about the arrival of the next generation.
Shortly afterwards we got a call from Carl, telling us that he wanted to show us the new floor in "The Carl." It was due to be occupied very soon. We met for lunch and then headed for Carl's offices. We started way up in his penthouse, which we had visited often, but which we really enjoyed seeing again and again. It gave him a beautiful view stretching from campus to river. It had to be an inspiring place for an architect to work. Carl eagerly affirmed that.
Then we headed for the fourth floor, which had just been finished. Peter had moved into his new office the previous day, and we stopped in to see him. Since he worked by himself, the office was designed to be easily managed by one person. There was a very small reception area with a counter separating it from the main office/studio. He could greet a visitor without having to leave his office. There was a small workroom for a draftsman whom he might need from time to time, a files room, and a little den with two comfortable chairs, bookshelves, and access to a small bathroom, which did have a shower. The den also had a little Pullman kitchen, so Peter could prepare lunch, snacks, or even a full meal. Peter was utterly delighted with the whole thing, which Carl had designed with him in mind, but without consulting him. Carl had known that Peter simply wouldn't have accepted that quality an office, rent free, if he'd been asked in advance. So he wasn't asked.
After visiting a little while, Carl took us around the rest of the floor. The building was a square and had a corridor running around a central core, with more space outside than inside the corridor. On three sides the corridor was really more the side of open space than an enclosed corridor. The building had four elevators, one in each side of the central core. Two were marked for Carl and Associates. One came only to the fourth floor and opened directly opposite Peter's office. On the ground it had a nameplate for his business, Truss Designs, Inc. (He was kidded often about the creativity that displayed, and its ambiguity.) The last was marked "Private" and only moved off the ground floor when a code was entered on a keypad. That made it accessible only to staff in the building. It was also only really convenient for access to Carl and Dirk's offices on the fifth floor. On the fourth floor the other two elevators opened into the space where visitors were greeted by one of two secretaries whose desks were in the open space.
There were four lovely corner offices on the fourth floor, and Carl had worried that creating them would create strife among the staff. However, he stayed out of the decision process of who should get the four new offices, and the group decided among themselves. Carl learned well after the fact that they'd had a big poker game and the last three out of chips won three of the offices. The winners were Nelson, Pam and Reggie. The fourth was saved for Carl's expected new senior architect. He was glad that one of the winners was female. The others were promised the corner offices on the third floor as soon as there was enough business to justify finishing another floor.
If you rode the private elevator and stopped at the fourth floor you ended up around the corner of the back corridor from Peter's office. And that's where the three of us, Carl, Tim and I, found ourselves as we finished our tour. But instead of pushing the button for the elevator, Carl signaled us to follow him to the door of a utility closet about ten feet down the hall, and on the inside wall. The door was like all the doors in the building, and the little identification plaque said "Utility." Carl twisted the little sign and it moved out of the way and a number pad was exposed. He punched in a number and the lock clicked. He recovered the number pad, which was quite invisible if you didn't know it was there, and opened the door to the closet.
A closet it was not. We went back a short slanted corridor that opened out into a fairly large room. Carl switched on the lights and we saw that the room was furnished as a master bedroom, with a huge bed–a California King. Four very comfortable easy chairs sat beside two coffee tables. On one table was a small pile of magazines of which Playboy was the least erotic. On the other table was a bronze statue of two men in a 69 position. From then till now Carl has never told us where he got that statue, but he was certainly proud of it. The room was completed by two bookcases filled with erotica, gay and the other kind. There was a closet with plenty of empty hangers and a full supply of bathrobes, nighties, pajamas, and other sleepwear. The bathroom was an interesting one space design which was like a huge shower stall with a toilet and two basins just opposite from four shower heads. If someone was taking a shower anybody on the can was going to get wet.
Tim and I didn't know what to say. Carl said, "Welcome to Gangland. The people that built it have no idea what it is for, never saw it furnished, and can keep a secret. Franklin, Phil, and I took care of selecting the furnishings and getting them in here at a time that no one saw what was coming in. The angle design coming in makes it almost impossible for people using other spaces on this floor to realize that the utility closet is this big. And there are no utilities in here. The electricians think it's for air conditioning, and the HVAC people think it's for plumbing. The plumbers don't go looking for utility closets. What do you think?"
Tim said, "What do we think? I'm not sure what we're supposed to think. This is quite a place; how much do you expect it to be used. By whom? When?"
"In the long run, I'm not sure. But it was fun to design. Fun to build. Fun to contemplate the usage. Now, off with your clothes, because in the short run, I know exactly what I have in mind."
For perhaps the first time in his life, Tim wasn't the first undressed. Carl took the honor. I got into the spirit of things very quickly and beat Tim for what I know was the first time in our lives. Carl pulled down the covers on the bed, grabbed Tim and pulled him on it, while he said, "Charlie, get his underwear off."
I did that easily, and we all three lay there in a pile. Tim quickly caught the spirit of the moment and said, "OK, Carl. This room is your gift to the Gang. Come on, Charlie, let's give him his thank you." He kissed Carl, and then started massaging him with his hands, slowly working down his body, tickling his ribs just enough to keep Carl wiggling and excited. I followed, emphasizing his nipples. Before long four hands and twenty fingers were manipulating his balls and dick, and not long after that he came all over himself and our hands.
Carl said, "Now I'd like to just watch you two take care of each other the same way."
Tim got to my balls first and I quickly followed Carl down that delightful path. Then I brought Tim along the same route. As soon as Tim came, Carl said, "Let's have a shower." Carl and I turned on the water and started to soak. Carl continued, "You need to understand that this isn't the inaugural shower, nor did you guys have the inaugural use of the bed. That went to Carol and me about a week ago. And I'm pretty sure that Franklin and Phil have tried the place out in the last week. Except for us four, and now you two, no one else in the Gang knows about it yet.
Tim sat down to take a shit and proved what we'd previously deduced: you were going to have to get wet to shit if someone was in the shower. Tim finished and said, "Where's the toilet paper?"
Carl said, "Paper in here would get wet pretty fast. Just stand up, bend over with your ass towards a shower head, and let the water clean you up. Much of the world prefers water to paper. If you must have paper, there's plenty in the closet. You need to get it before you come in if you aren't using the shower."
Tim did as he was told. As soon as he was clean, but before he could straighten up, I came up behind him and gave him a little rear end excitement with my finger. Tim said, "Charlie, have you got enough bone left there to fuck me?"
Carl came over to me and took my dick in his hand, saying. "He will in a minute."
I did. Carl got some KY and covered Tim's crack generously, and I moved up behind him and slipped inside. Tim said, "Bang away, Charlie." I did, and soon came, deep inside him. As I slipped out he turned and kissed me hard. "That was wonderful."
Carl said, "And you had to ask what I intended for this room. It's available to the Gang 24/7/365. I'll give everybody the combination. I know you all have homes, bedrooms, beds, showers, and the like. But this is a kind of special place. I think people will enjoy using it, especially at odd times. When the code is entered into the keypad, a buzzer sounds next to the bed and in the shower. To warn new arrivals that they won't be alone, if the corridor light is on the door will delay opening for about a half minute, so that the newcomers know that they're coming in on someone. The assumption is that there's no one in the Gang that'll feel intruded upon by someone else in the Gang. If they do, they shouldn't use this place."
I said, "Carl, you thought of everything."
Tim said, "Except towels. I'm wet and soon will get cold."
I said, "You never get cold."
Carl replied, "Just inside the closet is a cabinet with towels; lots of them. And there's a washer and dryer in there as well. Also plenty of sheets, toilet paper, condoms, you name it. It's well stocked.
Tim said, "What's going to go on the walls? They're all bare."
Carl said, "I imagine Sid's picture of the trustees over the bed. Franklin's going to try to come up with a good idea for the other walls. I expect that someday, I have no idea how soon, we'll arrive and the walls will be covered with something. There's one house rule. Nobody comes in, or is even told of the place except full Gang members. No guests. No exceptions."
I said, "Fair enough. We do want to keep this a closely held secret."
Tim said, "What about having people spend the night like a hotel–I mean Gang members, like Coach and Phyllis when they come from Minneapolis?"
"They'll have to be willing to accept visitors on thirty seconds notice."
"This could be interesting."
"I certainly hope so."
"So when's it available?"
"Right now. Carol and I would like the honor of introducing each Gang member to Gangland, and we'll give them the code when we do."
"Where was Carol today?"
"She's home taking care of Nels. She believes, and I think quite rightly, that there's a special relationship between Tim and me, and she wanted to respect that. She wasn't ready for this today. Her time will come."
Tim said, "She's wonderful. Tell her, 'Thanks.' We do have something special." Their kiss was proof of that. If I was jealous, it was only of the fact that Tim had a relationship with his brother that I would never have with either of mine.
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