Boston aside, there is no American city I’ve spent as much time in as San Francisco. I’ve felt a full range of emotions about the place; at times I’ve been allured and other times almost appalled by San Francisco. It’s a beguiling city where dreams and reality have often collided — sometimes painfully. I can’t even fathom what the city was like in the unbridled days before AIDS. A piece in today’s Times brings a bit of it to life.

“People could hardly have expected to have safe sex before the concept existed…and this thought is worth keeping in mind when you pick up, ‘Let’s Shut Out the World’,” says the eye-opening feature on Kevin Bentley, a San Francisco author who made it through the excess of the 1970s and lived to tell the tale. His new book is a “diary and a memoir whose substance is, raunchily, bracingly and tenderly sex.”
“He is a gay man whose political awakening came second to his sexual one and he is the rare remaining witness of a time when California was still a place of legend for counterculture types and apprentice lotus eaters.” He went to San Francisco from El Paso in the ’70s to “catch the party.” As the piece notes, “He caught the party, all right, and he paid what we now think of as the price of admission.”
“I came to San Francisco with a romantic idea,” he explained, while seated in a Starbucks that was long ago a gay bar. The idea was this, he said: “Love and passion and intimate love in themselves are a worthwhile quest.”
“I was really like any normal guy, normal looking, worried about not finding love, but still very aware how lucky he was to find himself where he was.”
“Though little is left of the gay 70′s in San Francisco, there are apparently enough people who can recall its effects on the local culture to keep the old spirit alive. Recently a number of attempts have been made to blow the dust off and unearth the raunchy and hopeful time when promiscuous sex symbolized not so much a death wish but counterculture exuberance.”
“Like Chelsea or any other tour bus idea of a homosexual haunt, the Castro occasionally has the dated look of a glass-fronted civic cabinet, its shelves arrayed with human souvenirs.”
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