When I first viewed the photo, the portrait of the two young men struck me. Initially, I could not quite place why, but then it dawned on me. In the summer of 1980, I was a reservist in the Canadian Army. I served in the 30th Field Artillery Regiment based in Ottawa. It was the summer following my graduation from high school and before my enrollment at Queen’s University in Kingston. I went to Canadian Forces Base Petawawa to work as a driver in a transportation company through July and August. I worked with young men from other regiments who were posted there, too–we were in our late teens and early twenties.
This self-portrait, taken in Havelock, New Brunswick, shows the simplicity of the intimacy shared by Leonard Olive Keith (1891-1950) and Joseph Austin “Cub” Coates (1899-1965), who lived and loved in the first half of the 20th century. They were two men in love in Canada when male homosexuality was a crime in Canadian law, and public prejudice against male homosexuality was openly expressed. It was as simple as it is in the present. Some men are romantically and sexually attracted to men. It is a natural expression of human sexual attraction and behaviour. To those who knew and loved them, they were Len and Cub, a homosexual couple. To those who reviled male homosexuals, they were beneath contempt. They were what we call normal gays in the 21st century. Len was a harness racing driver who opened a garage after serving as an engineer in the Canadian Army in World War I. Cub was a mechanic who served as an engineer in the Canadian Army in World War I and volunteered for service in the Canadian Army in World War II. They were ordinary men who had a sense of duty, served their King and country as volunteers in the Great War, and found love and companionship in each other’s company. Despite their discretion, suspicion over their relationship in Havelock drove them apart in the 1920s. Len moved to the United States, where he lived out his days. Cub married in 1940. That fate was not unusual for gay men in Canada in the 20th century.
I hesitated on whether I was a homosexual or not through the 1980s. I experienced same-sex attraction, but the pressure to conform, to be heterosexual was pronounced. I was in university from the early to mid-1980s, and plenty of young women were around me. I dated a few and had sex with two, but nothing developed between us. Eventually, I had a short-lived love affair with another man, Mike, a fellow student. It ended badly, but undaunted, I continued dating men until I met a man, Fabio, and we moved into a two-bedroom apartment together. Yes, we had to keep up appearances to rent an apartment. As far as our landlords knew, we were two students sharing a flat. We lived together for a year and parted following our graduation. He became a flight attendant with Air Canada, and I went to graduate school. We maintained our relationship for several months this way until he left me for another man. The breakup was hard for me, and I decided that I would try to be heterosexual.
I met and befriended a handsome young man my age at work. Pierre and I spent a lot of time together. We went to nightclubs looking to meet women. One night, we met two young women, one of whom was quite drunk. Pierre and the drunken young lady hit it off. Her friend and chaperone and I had a pleasant conversation. At the night’s end, I offered the ladies a ride home with Pierre and me. They accepted. On the drive to their apartment building, Pierre and his date made out in the back seat. It made me jealous, and I drew her friend’s attention out of pettiness. She put a stop to it. Later, at Pierre’s flat, I stayed at his place often after these late nights out; as I settled into bed in his spare room, I reached out impulsively and touched his hand. He was startled and sat up abruptly and then retired to his room. I got the message, and we never mentioned the incident.
Still, I remember the morning we went for breakfast when he grinned shyly and told me he had something to say. My heart leapt as I imagined he would confess that he was gay and had feelings for me. Instead, he told me that he had his first sex with a woman the night before–oh, the disappointment. Thus, the moral of this anecdote is that whether you are a homosexual or heterosexual man, you can expect a bumpy ride in your affairs of the heart. But above all else, you should remain true to yourself. Deception is never the best policy, least of all in matters of the heart.
Geoffrey & Mika 