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By STEVE WEINSTEIN
Friday, July 18, 2003
Fire Island Pines: three words for Paradise Lost.” Author Alan Helms’ description
fits so many people’s conception of what, by any standard, is one of the
most beautiful beach communities in the world.
Ever since the late ‘70s, when dueling novels “Dancer from the
Dance” and “Faggots” presented two very contrasting images,
the Pines has loomed large in the collective gay imagination. Do you believe
that it symbolizes every gay man’s doomed romantic quest for perfect
love, as it did for Andrew Holleran (author of “Dance”)? Or does
it typify self-absorbed hedonism endemic to urban gay life, as it did for Larry
Kramer (author of “Faggots”)?
However people may feel about the Pines — and opinions among gay men
in New York run high on the topic, from loathing to adoration — no one
can deny that the Pines has had a disproportionate influence on contemporary
gay culture, for good or ill. As such, the place has earned the mythic meaning
alluded to by Helms.
That’s why any change there becomes nearly totemic for gay life as a
whole. And there are plenty of changes afoot.
On July 12, a decision was made to cancel Pines Party. This all-night affair,
scheduled to take place Aug. 9 into the early-morning hours of Aug. 10, would
have brought the community together with out-of-town visitors for a night of
gambling, dancing and hanging out in sponsored tents.
The original Pines Party in 1999 was a tribute to “Beach,” the
legendary 1979 party. Beach brought the straight and gay parts of the community
in common cause: a benefit for the local volunteer fire department.
It was in that spirit that Pines Party has combined elements of a community
clambake with an all-night dance party to benefit the Pines Harbor and Stonewall
Foundation. The community’s response has been an outpouring of money
and effort that echoed its predecessor.
That’s why people are disappointed by the party’s cancellation.
The ostensible reason was beach erosion, which only left a swath of sand wide
enough to build the one-night-only superstructure between Nautilus and Ozone
Walks.
Unfortunately, a new dune is coming in right at that point. Apparently, the
planning committee has been monitoring the beach’s width since spring,
and it felt it would be “politically incorrect” (to use one insider’s
own phrase) to bring in huge equipment, a dance floor and level part of the
beach while homeowners face assessments and the National Seashore (the government
body responsible for the island) considers beach replenishment projects.
Since the party requires a huge outlay of funds in advance, the committee
was forced to make a decision now.
Some speculate that the death, reported in last week’s Blade, of a man
who jumped into the harbor, as well as two apparent GHB-related fall-outs (not
requiring hospitalization but unnerving all the same) at a fund-raiser over
July 4 weekend may have factored into the decision. Pines Party, after all,
was a successor to the GMHC Morning Party, which didn’t survive criticism
surrounding drug-related incidents.
Whatever the reasons, many people see the cancellation of the party as a sign
of changing times in the Pines. A stroll down the boardwalk certainly reveals
a community in transition.
In the 1970s, the Pines was the epicenter of gay life, a crucible for new
ways of thinking about everything from sexuality to flower arranging. In the
1980s, the community became an epicenter of a wholly different sort, as AIDS
hit the Pines earlier and harder than anywhere else in the United States. In
the 1990s, the booming economy helped home prices skyrocket and transformed
beach cottages into gated mansions.
Today, the Pines is a stable place where gay and straight residents mingle
easily and amicably. While there is no question that many more heterosexual
families are evident this year, I don’t see this as a cause for any great
alarm.
It never was a “gay community.” In fact, heterosexuals have always
made up a substantial proportion of homeowners. Most of these people are “gay
friendly” to their bones, or they wouldn’t be there.
To anyone who decries a perceived increase in straight families, I would caution
you to beware: That’s a two-edged sword that has been wielded more effectively
by our enemies. If you don’t like “them” being in the Pines, “they” have
as much right to object to you being in “their” neighborhoods and
towns.
Homeowners, renters and visitors have noticed something else that, down the
road, may prove to be of greater and more substantial concern. What was once
the playground for the young is becoming more and more a haven for the middle-aged
and elderly.
Most people blame the dramatic run-up in house prices and rentals during the
go-go ‘90s for the dearth of young people. Others point to more restrictive
rules about house parties and a curtailed schedule at the local dance club.
Others site a more profound reason. In the 1960s, ‘70s and even ‘80s,
many gay men (and lesbians) came to the Pines because it provided a safe haven
in a hostile world. Here, we could freely hold hands, kiss and a lot more outside
of prying eyes. That ferry from Sayville was not only a mode of transportation
to a federally protected wilderness area; it was an effective means of isolating
the island from the rest of the world.
Fire Island’s splendid isolation stands in marked contrast to every
gay resort. Provincetown, Rehoboth, South Beach, Palm Springs, Saugatuck or
Russian River are all accessible by automobile or airplane. Not so Fire Island.
Today, many argue that increased acceptance of homosexuality, especially in
New York City, has eliminated the need for such a safe haven. Why, they ask,
should young people take the time or spend the money to travel to the Pines
when they can have as much freedom as they need on the streets of Manhattan
or Brooklyn?
It’s a tempting argument. But I don’t see the island so much as
a haven from the world as a place to recharge my batteries. Walking on the
beach at dawn or watching the sun set over Great South Bay provides a respite
from the bustle of the city.
With the Pines preparing to celebrate its 50th anniversary (actually, the
50th year of the Property Owners Association), this might be a good time to
take stock in what the island has meant to people and where the future might
take it. Fire Island will remain a bit of paradise, a place to recharge worn-out
batteries, a refuge and a human greenhouse where we will continue to cultivate
new ways to live out our lives.
Steve Weinstein is the editor of the New York Blade and can be reached at sweinstein@nyblade.com
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