A very smart, sophisticated, beautiful young woman, Anita Newman, became a good friend of mine a very long time ago at the start of my life in America.  She predicted  that I would have an interesting, pleasant life, would make a good mark in my circle of acquaintances, not only because I try very hard to be liked, but mostly because I like people.  I get involved with them, look in their eyes, and listen to them.

And she was right!  I found other peoples lives, their fears, their successes, their failures, their desires, to be much more interesting and educational than reading novels.  I got to know many people of all ages, in all walks in life.  I made friends with some, and became a "good ear" and companion to many others.

With the advice of "Rocky,"  I  joined a prestigious mens club downtown across from the St. Francis Hotel.  It was in an imposing building with a grand entrance, a spacious lobby where the members met their families before going out on the town.  Upstairs there were meeting rooms, a nice library, a restaurant and bar, game rooms with pool and card tables - and further above there were rooms where some unmarried members lived.

Downstairs there was a huge swimming pool, steam room, showers, and workout facilities.  Every member had a key to his own private locker where we each kept our own razors, extra socks, and underwear.  It was all very dignified and respectful.

I loved this place.  I went there a few times a week and bonded, locker room style, with many colleagues.  Occasionally we brought in some guests, and grown sons joined their fathers.

After a few years, I was invited to join a private locker room group.  This was a club within a club.  About 20 members, who were compatible, rented a large room upstairs.  We furnished it with comfortable couches and chairs.  Each member had his own cabinet, where the doors and drawers had locks.  Most of us kept our private life - private.  Besides changes of clothes, and bottles of liquor (which we shared with the other members), private letters, mementos and men's secrets were hidden in those lockers.

And although we respected each other’s privacy, we knew quite a lot about the other’s lives.  Men like to both complain and brag about sexuality - some even displayed photos of their secret, or recent, lady friends.

We played cards, drank, even arranged business deals - it was intimate and safe.  Our private mail was delivered to our locker room.

Of all the men there, I bonded with a very quiet man who was also my neighbor.  He had his office downtown and seldom drove, so I drove him home on many occasions.  I knew his wife who was older than he was.  After their only child was born, she devoted her whole life to this boy, to the complete exclusion of her husband.

I knew this young boy.  When he was about 16-17 his father brought him into the club, but the boy was overly reserved, too shy, and never looked into eyes of people talking to him.  He looked for any excuse to leave our company.

At one time, when the boy came in and then left our locker room in a hurry, a conversation started about this pale young man.  One member turned to the father and warned him not to let his son become "a loose wrist kind" - the word "gay" was not coined at that time.  To have a son be inclined toward homosexual feelings was the biggest, most shameful thing that could befall a family.

One loud mouth member of European stock reminded everyone that in his country, when a young man becomes an adolescent, he is taken to an experienced woman to learn all about "real sex."  After a few sessions with this lady, no man will ever try anything without a female.  There is no homosexuality or any weird goings on in his part of the world!

He wanted to know why this is not done here?

And one of our group, "the Bon-Vivant" volunteered, why not try it?  He knows of a very fine young lady, a college student in one of the nearby universities.  She comes to the city every few weeks, takes a room in a busy hotel where there is a lot of foot traffic.  She notifies her clients (friends), and they scheduled regular liaisons.  She is experienced, young, pretty, safe; not a gold digger.  She services her clients, goes back to college with enough money to pay her way and live well - everyone is safe and satisfied until the next session.  He could arrange for a get together with her. I noticed a few in our group were interested.

I talked to the father about the possibility of exposing his son to this lady.  He was at first shocked, and then he admitted that he could never talk to his son about such a possibility.  So, I volunteered.

The young man was teaching me to play pool (I never did learn) and I asked him if he was ever with a woman sexually.  He did look at me, but blushed from ear to ear.  I did not give up, and asked if he would like to try?  Again, he turned away and blushed.  I assured him that this would be known only between the two of us.  He hesitated, and finally shook his head affirmatively.

I put this to work - arranged with the Bon Vivant to set up a date - and also to prepay the fee to the lady, as I wanted this to be as romantic as possible.

On a Saturday afternoon, I drove the young man to the hotel.  Both of us were very nervous.  I pointed out the right elevator to take, where to get off, and at which door to knock.

He hesitated, but at last walked toward the elevator and went up.

After about 45 minutes, I saw the young man emerge, holding the hand of a young, pretty woman - they smiled, held hands and walked through the lobby as if they were lovers.  We watched them go in the cafeteria, sit down and order coffee and food.  They looked lovely and happy.  We never talked about this incident.

My life took a new turn.  I got involved in new ventures, and I didn't attend the club as often.  I heard that the young man went to a college in Santa Barbara, and a few years later I received an invitation to his wedding in Los Angeles.

I don't know if what I did, helped, straightened out, or educated this young man.  But, I feel that I did a good deed.  After all, what are friends for?