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‘hotel bar. Some of these young men, husbands every
one of them, have taken to stopping in on the way
home, striking up acquaintances with those new-
fangled traveling salesmen. Not the old sweaty kind.
| Smooth talking, smooth-looking fellows.

“The hotel manager complains that the salesmen
are taking the husbands up to their rooms, pretend-
ing they’re going to polish off a bottle. The hotel
man swears to me they’re having sex. He says he
can tell by the sounds.

“So I bug one of the rooms. And if I played that
tape I'd hate to tell you what you’d hear. What can
I do about it? Nothing. Buggery’s against the law,
but the guy who’s doing it has bought up one of the
biggest chunks of real estate in the country. Hed
have my head if I opened my mouth.

“Do you know that so much sex between men was
going on in the wash rooms at the bus and train
stations that I had to sneak around and get the
railroad and bus companies to close them up? Now
to get in you have to ask for the key. It’s a helluva
dirty thing to have to do to the ordinary public. But
I can’t afford a man there on duty 24 hours. The
people squawk and we give them some kind of
phony reason. You’re the first one that’s come
around with any knowledge of the situation.”