Living with Bert

By 1979, we had decided that 54 West 84Th Street was too small for two people and decided not to renew the lease. Bert found a wonderful apartment directly across the street from his. The address was 334 West 87Th Street #8A. The apartment had a foyer and a spacious living room, a kitchen, a hallway that lead from the foyer past the living room and kitchen to two bed rooms with a full bath at the end of the hallway. There were two windows in the living room and one in each of the bed rooms.

The decors were a mismash from the various periods when the apartment was occupied by prior tenants. There were wall sconces in the living room used for gas lights prior to the conversion to electricity and an absurd black and white checker board tile pattern on the floor in the foyer and hallway. This was a style popular in the 1930s. Fine wooden cabinets in the kitchen painted an obnoxious green with equally disgusting gold linoleum decorated the kitchen. The plastering throughout the apartment was so old and wet from leaks that globs of plaster came loose when you tried to paint.

I borrowed $10,000 from my Mom for renovations, which I, subsequently, repaid in full. The first project was the foyer and hallway. First, we had the walls and ceiling painted a deep burgundy. Then we had track lighting installed. I removed the black and white tile and had gray slate colored tile laid. We installed my two bookcases in the hallway after the foyer ended. The bookcases were also painted the same deep burgundy. The bookcases had many books in gold binding that showed off nicely against this dark burgundy background, augmented by the track lighting.

The second project was the living room. First, we had the hard wood floor sanded and re stained with two coats of polyurethane which made the floor gleam like a sheet of ice. We painted the walls white and installed track lighting in a square on the ceiling. This made the track lighting illuminate each wall. We purchased a white sofa and matching love seat, and found a 1940's phonograph cabinet to hold our stereo equipment and recordings. In those days, one could find all sorts of perfectly good furniture abandoned on the streets of the Upper West side. Lastly, Bert purchased planters for the window sills in the living room and planted flowers at the sills. The effect looking from the dark foyer into the living room, flooded with light either from the track lighting or natural light from the windows, was like you had just entered into an exclusive soho gallery.

The next project was the bedrooms. We had both the front and back bedrooms painted a blue/gray. In the front bedroom, which was for Bert and me, we sanded and re stained the hard wood floor and had a double coat of varnish applied. We had Ken Lebarre make us a head rest and a double swinging door dresser. Both the dresser and headrest were painted white. We added a box springs and mattress resting on the floor adjacent to the headrest. The effect was a clean and spartan look.

Because the kids were visiting every other weekend, we decided that the back bedroom should be set aside for them. Bert made three twin sized platform beds. Two were placed against the windowless wall and the other was placed underneath the back window. We purchased two wood bookcases, stained and varnished in a natural pine finish. These cases were for the kid's clothes and to hold the TV. This was the only room in which we placed a TV. Bert didn't watch TV except for Brideshead Revisited, and neither did I.

The three platform beds doubled as sofas when the room was used as a gathering spot during parties. The twin mattressses were covered with hand made burgundy covers and with tubular burgundy bolsters to provide back support when Rhea platforms were used as sofas. We had the floor and the wood portions of the platforms covered in a deep gray industrial grade wall-to-wall carpeting. The effect was to make the room look like a warm and cozy den.

The last project was the kitchen, the 1/2 bath that adjoined it and the full bath at the end of the hallway. First, we painted the kitchen white with sand paint. We had the kitchen cabinets stripped of the green paint and re stained to their original oak finish. Lastly, we removed the truly disgusting gold linoleum and had the floor sanded and re stained with a double coat of polyurethane. The final effect was to convert a truly ugly kitchen into one the looked like a French country kitchen. The 1/2 bath, which was probably originally for servants, contained only a toilet which hadn't been used in years. I confined my efforts to cleaning the toilet and painting the walls white. In the full bath, we installed a vanity mirror and painted the walls white with sand paint. With the addition of designer bath and hand towels and a shower curtain, the baths appeared modern chic.

The apartment was finished, and we settled into the middle class life of two Urban Gay Profes-sionals. We were off to work by 8:30 AM. Bert picked up the ingredients for dinner on his way home, then cooked, and then we ate usually in the kitchen where I had placed my fold-up dining room table.

Bert was, initially. very mysterious about his work. He said that the firm was called Pam & H, but nothing more. He did introduce me to a co-worker, Barry Winett, who I disliked. He was one of those New York Jews who have been in therapy for ten years without any sign of improvement. One day, I called Bert at work. A stranger answered the phone saying,''Galpeer, Altus and Karp, may I help you please? My curiousity was peaked, so I shifted into overdrive and said, ''I have a meeting there this afternoon, but I've lost the address." The stranger gave me an address on 3rd Avenue. I decided to pay a little surprise visit on Bert. One of the perks of my job was that I could come and go as I pleased, so I journeyed up 3rd Avenue.

When I got to the address, there were two wooden doors labelled ''Galpeer, Altus & Karo, Attorneys at Law.'' I entered to the site of Bert sitting behind the receptionist desk. When he saw me he went into a panic, rushing over brimming with apologies. At first, I was upset, but I remembered my deception to Karen about being an Episcopalian. and her gracious forgiveness of that embellishment. In the same spirit, I decided to be charitable and said "Calm down, Bert, I am not upset. I don't love you because you are an architect. I have no major buildings or bridges to build. I love you because you're my sweet pea." This was my pet name for him.

Bert later explained to me that when he got out of school in 1975, New York was deep in financial crisis, presided over by that incompetent major, Abe Beame. Consequently, there was almost no construction going on in the city, and the architectural firms were not hiring. To survive, Bert took a clerical job as assistant office manager at the law firm. I was happy because this showed that Bert was not content to sit around on his ass all day waiting for a Sugar Daddy to magically appear.

That Memorial Day weekend, we made the first of what was to become an annual summer junket to New Hope, a gay friendly rural artist colony on the Delaware River. We brought along Bob and Fred and Gene and Terry. New Hope is a small town. It is in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, across the river from Lambertville, New Jersey. The town consists essentially of two streets, one running east-west and one running north-south. The streets bisect near the bridge across the Delaware. Both streets are filled with arts and crafts shops and restaurants.

We would spend the morning browsing the shops and then meet for brunch and Bloody Marys at an outdoor cafe named Carlas. One afternoon, we decided to visit Washington's Crossing State Park to the South of town. We had rented cars so transportation was no problem. When we got there, we noticed a stone circular observation tower on top of a very steep hill. We decided to hike up to the tower. Memorial Day weekend can be very chilly in Pennsylvania, or very hot. Bob in packing his six suit cases, mostly filled with cosmetics, guessed that it would be chilly. Not! It was 95 Degrees in the shade! Bob started the climb gallantly, dressed in a warm flannel shirt and heavy Calvin Klein jeans.

By the time we reached the 1/2 mark, he was sweating so profusely that his makeup was starting to run! But the real problem for Bob was his feet which ached to the point of agony in his Tony Lama cowboy boots. Every time that he would complain, Fred would make a bitchy remark like, ''Well if you hadn't got the boots two sizes too small in order to make your feet look petite, we wouldn't have to put up with your moaning and groaning now.'' Bob did not deny Fred's allegation. We finally reached the tower. Bert, Gene, Terry and I, reached the top, while Bob lay prostrate on the grass below, being fanned by Fred with the ridiculous cowboy hat that he had worn for the trip. The view of the Delaware Valley was spectacular from the top of the tower. In the evening we had two Gay Discos to choose from -- [1] The Prelude and [2] The Cartwheel. The Prelude was our usual choice.

That Thanksgiving, we had the kids in for the day. We decided to host a gala dinner. We invited Bob and Fred and Bob's son Billy. While Bert and Fred were busy in the kitchen, Billy and my boys watched TV and played games in the back bedroom. For those suburban children dinner was quite different from dinner with their mother. Bert refused to buy one of those frozen''Butterball'' turkeys. Instead he would buy a fresh turkey carcass from a high quality meat market. He also made real cranberry sauce, not those tubular gelatinous masses that come in a can. The boys were amazed to find that real cranberry sauce is liquid and you can see the cranberries.

We served red wine to all, children included. It was amusing to watch the boys play grown-up by toasting each other. I was frightful because they were using Bert's Tiffany wine glasses, but no catastrophe occurred.

Bert and I were very active in Gay Fathers. We also attended most of the outings. The fathers always picked things that would interest both the adults and the kids: The World's Fair '39 site and museum in the Queens, the Staten Island Zoo, etc. The one that I liked the best was Antony Wayne State Park [hereinafter ''AW SP''] on the approach to Bear Mountain. We would picnic and barbeque there. AW SP overlooked the Palisades with great views of the Hudson and Westchester. There was a softball field near the picnic grounds. On one outing, the male kids challenged the fathers to a softball game. The growth of the group since the symposium was shown by the fact that we were able to field one nine men and one nine boy team. For the Fathers: Henry Weis was the pitcher; Al Loungo the catcher; I played First Base; Gene Santamasso was Second Base; Mike Katch was Third Base;Joel Ifcer was Short Stop; the Outfield featureed Fred Trickey in Left; Gene Valitt in Center; and Bob Boxer in Right.

Bert was amused at Fred's selection of Left Field. Fred said he would do it because, ''He had 'soccer legs.' Bert quipped that, ''Fred was apparently unaware that outfielders are supposed to catch the ball, not to kick it.'' I don't remember the inning, but there was a boy on first and third. Joel's son John was at the plate. John was more man than boy. He was 16, built like the proverbial Brick S.- - t House. He hit a smashing line drive to Left. Any little leaguer would have known to go back on the ball, but not Fred. He came running in toward the infield. We all shouted,''Go back Fred!'' We turned deathly silent as the ball flew 25 feet over Fred's head. By the time that Gene Vallitt lumbered over to the left field fence to retrieve the ball and throw it to the short stop, John reached home plate, giving him a tree run inside-the-park home run.

To be charitable, I must admit that Fred's eyesight and judgment were clouded by the 10 Bloody Marys that he had consumed before the game. In a latter inning the boys put in Peter Vallitt as a left handed pinch hitter. Since he was left handed, I warned Bob Boxer in right field that, ''This may be coming your way, be alert!" Sure enough, Peter hit a lazy fly ball to right. Bob froze like he had just seen the Grim Reaper. We all yelled, ''Stick up your glove, Bob!" He must have misheard us because he stuck out his glove straight, like he was asking for a hand-out. I feared that the ball would strike Bob on the head, but instead it landed between his two feet. He stood there staring at the ball for what seemed like forever.

Finally, with Peter bearing down on Second Base, I yelled to Bob, '' Pick up the damn ball and throw it to me." The correct play would have Beeen to throw it to Second, but I Knew that Bob's arm was not that of Roberto Clemente and that Gene Santamasso, although adequate, was no Billy Mazeroski, especially with 220 lbs. With Peter Vallit bearing down on him I received Bob's girl-like lob and fired the ball across the diamond to Mike Katch at Third, holding Peter to a double.

To say the least, the Fathers lost honorably, each congratulating his Son on a good game. We were like a church picnic, and I had found the answer to the question that I posed so long ago. Yes, it is possible to be Gay and keep a good relationship with my children.