Studies of older gay men have yielded contradictory results. Some, like Lee (1989), supported the traditional assumption that having lost their physical attractiveness in a youth-oriented gay society, their lives are characterized by isolation and invisibility. But others, Berger’s (1996 [1982]) in particular, found that older gay men are no less adjusted than older heterosexuals. Furthermore, his respondents reported a level of sexual activity that belied the stereotype of the sexless life of older gay men. But whatever their major perspective, all studies emphasized the importance of involvement in close social networks and organizations for successful aging in gay society (e.g., Simon and Gagnon 1969; Berger 1996 [1982]; Slusher, Mayer, and Dunkle 1996). The expansion of gay and lesbian institutions in recent years has brought with it the development of organizations specializing in the needs of older lesbians and gay men in the urban environment in particular. Among the first and most successful of these is SAGE.
The Circle’s Meetings
The SAGE group met every week; regular participants rarely missed a meeting. The fact that they were always held in the same homey room contributed to the feeling of familiarity. I was not the only new attendee at my first SAGE meeting. All present introduced themselves, and the newcomers explained their reasons for joining the group. I presented myself as an Israeli anthropologist on sabbatical who was interested in gay life and mentioned my book on the gay synagogue. This information did not prompt any questions or comments, so I never again raised the subject. While members were sometimes interested in my experiences as an Israeli, they never inquired about my occupational life. I felt that emphasizing my professional interests would detract from the feeling of comradeship.
As indicated in Chapter 2, the anthropologist conducting research in a Western urban setting resides on a different ethical plateau and may find himself/herself acting somewhat clandestinely. Much later, during a stay in New York in 1999, I was more explicit to the group about my research intentions. Again, this disclosure prompted no demurral on their part. Only one participant, Peter (among the few blacks and who is also encountered in Chapters 2 and 10) approached me after the meeting and showed interest in my work. I was a full participant in the group meetings, in discussions and “sharings,” but avoided revealing intimate details of my life. More than once it was suggested that I take the role of facilitator, but I was careful not to take any leading position. When I returned after a six-month absence, I was welcomed by the old-timers and immediately felt comfortable regardless of the many new faces.
A meeting usually drew about fifteen to twenty members, among whom I gradually identified a core of six to eight men who knew each other well (during my visits in 1999 attendance expanded to nearly thirty participants). Most of the core had been attending for over a year—some for several years. A few, however, had joined the group only shortly before my arrival and soon became regulars. Most attendees were in their late forties to early sixties; only a few infrequent visitors were much younger or older. All were “single,” though many had been involved in longstanding relationships that had ended in death, or more often “divorce.” Almost all regulars were college educated. Most were—or had been before retirement—successfully employed in a wide range of white-collar and professional occupations that included therapy, social work, teaching, sales, administration, and art, among others. With the exception of one churchgoing core member, the others were mostly not actively involved in their religion, including gay congregations. The family background of the participants was Italian, Jewish, and other whites. One regular was African American. I was the only foreigner attending. Rarely did participants mention their ethnic background as part of their presentation of self. During discussions, however, a reference might sometimes be made to an Italian family tradition, for instance. Jewish identity was typically revealed indirectly through joking or using Yiddish terms.
The meetings started at 7:30 p.m. and ended by 9:30, after which all in attendance were invited to adjourn to a nearby diner for drinks or food. Only the regulars, or newcomers who had an interest in future attendance, joined that fellowship, which lasted about an hour. An area at the back of the restaurant was rearranged to enable the group to sit together around one table. While the two-hour meeting at the Center was a structured event led by a facilitator (from among the regular participants), the discussions at the diner were more freewheeling. These late gatherings often included gossip about regulars who did not attend and newcomers who did, as well as personal stories volunteered by those present. This was also an opportunity for core group members to arrange weekend outings to a movie or an exhibition, or plan activities for upcoming holidays. In my observation, these social activities only rarely entailed romantic involvement. Except for a few fleeting encounters—and one regular being suspected of importuning newcomers—I did not hear of dating within the group.
What I proffer in this chapter as well as those following is a second, or perhaps a third, stage in the process of ethnographic construction of the life of the group. I was inevitably selective in the first round, as I wrote down my field notes. I was selective again during the phase of writing the major part of this chapter. However, these leading themes, even if chosen and magnified through my subjective perception, nevertheless introduce an important component of the discussion and events that took place during the many evenings I spent in the company of the SAGE membership.2 A few of the major participants, as well as a “sample” of the stories and issues they shared with their veteran and newly arrived colleagues at the weekly meetings, are introduced next.
Love, Sex, and Discontent
The meetings usually started with a go-around. Each participant introduced himself by name and mentioned what had affected him most during the week since they had last met. For the regulars, this represented an updating of the group on key themes in their life histories. The facilitator summed up the major issues raised during the introductions and suggested probing more deeply into one or two themes that seemed most fruitful for a group discussion. One could describe these two-hour meetings as weekly oral diary sessions, filled out and expanded with the help of questions and comments raised by sympathetic listeners.
The participants consistently objected to defining their weekly gatherings as a “support group” or even as “meetings,” a term they associated with Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) or other organizations with a therapeutic element. “This is not a support group, though it isn’t not a support group. We are here in an undefined territory,” Paul, a veteran member, once explained to newcomers. “A good rap group” was the definition preferred by some. Most participants did not consider their meetings as a substitute for therapy, which many were, or had been, in. They sometimes complimented members who had missed therapy in order to attend the group, boosting the group’s morale.
Michael was the facilitator at most meetings he attended. In his mid-forties, he was among the group’s younger members. He was muscular, trim, casually but well dressed, projecting self-assurance. He had a good sense of humor and a pleasant demeanor. He worked in a pharmaceutical laboratory. As I soon learned, he regularly updated the group on his frequent travels abroad, trips that often engaged him in romantic adventures. One weekend trip to Paris was particularly memorable. Soon after settling into his hotel, he made his way to a nearby sauna. There he immediately noticed a good-looking young man. They retired to a private room and had “great sex.” Only then did the young man ask him if he spoke English. To their mutual surprise and fun, it turned out they were both from New York, where they were almost next-door