*apologies to Robert Graves, Joan Didion, and anyone else who has used this cool title.

Mountain, clouds: Palm Springs

The first-ever time I was in Palm Springs was in July, 1981, right about 30 years ago, when I drove out there with a group of guys from the Gay Student Union at USC in Los Angeles. It was the 4th of July weekend, and the leader of our little group (who, I kid you not, had “Gay” as his surname) had been there before, knew the “lay” of the land, and promised delights lurked behind every cactus.

Our specific destination was a gay resort called The New Lost World, which was, I know now, basically right on the border between Rancho Mirage and Palm Desert. It was  a derelict property which had been owned at some point in the past (long, long past) by Desi Arnaz and Lucille Ball.

It had a lookout tower, a bar and restaurant, numerous buildings with guest rooms and several pools. It had abandoned volleyball courts, and an enormous firepit and shuffleboard course which was now a racetrack for a roadrunner. It backed up onto a giant wash, separated only by a low brick wall to keep out the wildness, of which, in 1981, there was still plenty.

On that particular weekend, there was a men’s fashion show around the pool. I only remember that caftans were among the items being shown, and the brave “models” were heckled incessantly by an audience stoked on Margaritas and 110 degree temperatures.

The pools, I remember, were cloudy; I came back with an ear infection but nothing worse, thank god, considering my youth, the year and nighttime activities. That trip began my association and love/hate relationship with Palm Springs.

Throughout the 1980s, I would go up to “the Springs” maybe once or twice a year. We really (we, meaning friends in their 20s, early 30s) could not afford anything more than that. It was then, as it is now, a getaway for a sex and sun weekend for guys from the cities of California. It seemed then, that everyone who went to Palm Springs was my age, whatever it happened to be, whatever year. It seems the same now, that the group that liked the desert was my specific age group which has grown up with that desire for dry heat.

The places that were popular then were all in Cathedral City, clustered around Dave’s Villa Caprice and The Desert Palms motel, way before anybody ever thought of building a Target there. An old date palm grove between the properties provided ample cruising space, as did the bars – I remember Rocks, Daddy Warbucks, the disco Cathedral City Construction Company, and there was a Club Baths next door. At that time, there were only a couple of gay places in Palm Springs proper. That, of course, has changed. Just a bit.

Up next: the 90s and 2000s, Goodbye to All That part 2.

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