I’m writing my coming out story for my memoir and it’s practically turning into a book on it’s own… and I’m just getting started. Trying to jog my memory about my time in Amsterdam— which is where I finally did come out— I came across a chapter in my life that I haven’t spent a lot of time thinking about, the gay canal house a bunch of guys I met and befriended lived in. I worked at the Kosmos, a meditation center that wasn’t especially gay-friendly, the way spiritual hippie scenes often weren’t. Of course, it wasn’t gay-unfriendly either. But as I started getting the feeling I was gay after all, I needed some gay friends to talk to.
I have no idea how I met Michael Bow and Steven Malinowski. But they had a house on the Singel, I think right above or right next to the most famous gay bar in town, the DOK. Michael was kind of a den mother to stray gay guys and, though you’d think it would be easy to find gay friends— as opposed to sex partners— in Amsterdam, I didn’t know how to go about it. They had their own table at the DOK and went every night and that was my introduction to gay club life, always strange-- at least back then-- for someone who doesn't drink or behave in a campy way.
Michael was a strange bird. He was extravagant and flamboyant in the extreme and the house was filled with peacock feathers and silk fabrics hanging from the ceilings. And filled with gay guys, mostly English-speaking. Michael was from Ohio. His family was very wealthy and they were paying him to stay away from home. His grandfather was a famous far right congressman, Frank T. Bow (R-OH), who was appointed ambassador to Panama by Nixon and then died before he could be sworn in. Michael’s father was a senior Vice President at Chrysler or one of the other big car companies. Michael was about one step from being a drag queen so I can imagine how that would have gone over with his family.
Stephen was a working class guy, also from the Midwest but more down-to-earth most of the time. Michael was sweet on this English kid who had moved in with them, John, known as “Little John” because there was also a “Big John.” Big John was a very wealthy travel and hospitality entrepreneur who lived in London and was more or less in love with Little John. That worked out well for the rest of us because Big John owned a string on rental villas around the Mediterranean— and a plane— and when it was low-season, he would let Little John and his friends go stay in the villas.
I remember this one time, he bought us all plane tickets to fly to London before having his small private plane take us to Corfu. London was pretty amazing seeing it from inside Big John’s world. His fancy townhouse was a non-stop party scene. Elton John wasn’t really famous yet— but he wasn’t unknown either and he was there one day and so was David Bowie; same thing— not gigantic, but not unknown. The house was always going at full speed. I had my head shaved at the time and that wasn’t cool in the gay world yet, so Michael made me wear a cheap wig:
It was made of plastic and you could practically knock on it and hear it. It was so wonderful getting out of there and winding up in quiet, peaceful Corfu, off the beaten path in those days, off the northwest coast of Greece. Everyone else stayed up in John’s villa but Steven and I decided to camp out on the beach. We built a couple of lean-tos out of whatever we found. One day, Steven took some acid or mushrooms and was stoned out of his mind. We were both happy to just relax and recuperate from the London madhouse.
So that was my introduction to gay life in early 1970s Amsterdam. The rest of it will be in the Memwah. Although I should mention that some of my Dutch friends in and around the Kosmos were gay too and you'll be reading more about them if you stick with me.
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