By the 1960s, gay life was slowly started to come out from the post WWII underground with a social life that was primarily focused on an evolving bar scene. Bars were at the very least a place where gay men and lesbians could meet others and they were a bit of a sanctuary, albeit a scary one at times.

The bars were generally located in sketchy areas, the sin strips of medium-sized and large cities. The neighborhoods were dangerous and the bar goers were often hassled by the police. In many communities, a person could be arrested for wearing an article of clothing that was deemed to belong to a different gender.

There is little record of the gay bar scene in Lansing during this time, but everyone agrees that there was one. Some of the bars may have been short-lived, but they existed.

And in one of those bars sometime in the Sixties, Fay met a young man named Gary, who would be his lover for many years.

Even though the 1960s bar scene was barely documented, the so-called Sin Strip on East Michigan Avenue in Lansing was the home of several gay bars in the 1970s that were well known. Best known of these were Joe Covello’s Lounge (generally referred to as just Covello’s) and Trammpps.

Covello’s was a dark, dingy, comfortable bar that was frequented by both gay men and lesbians. It had a long bar with large leather booths, pinball machines, a pool table and a jukebox. It didn’t have doors on the bathroom stalls, but the bar felt safe for people to be themselves.

Gary and Fay seemed to have kept in touch throughout the rest of Fay’s life. Gary attended Fay’s Memorial Service in 1986 with his mother Norma and both signed the guest book. No one in the family remembers meeting either of them. One can imagine that Fay had a great friendship with Norma during his relationship with Gary.

Bernie said he sat next to Gary at the service and described him as tall and slender with a bit of a middle-aged paunch. He had longish blond hair and blue eyes. It’s the only description we have of a man who seemed to have meant a great deal to our grandfather.

Gary died somewhat young at age 60 in 2000.

During the 1960s, Fay continued to move from job to job as was his habit. Agnes’s youngest son, Bernie, lived with Fay during this decade and, like his brother Glen before him, he went with Fay wherever that might lead. They were frequently in Lansing, but also spent some time in Minneapolis and Utica, New York.

The Howard Johnson’s I most remember was the one on Cedar Street in Lansing where Fay worked for many years. We came down from our home in northern Michigan pretty regularly and we always ate at the restaurant. This was Fay’s longest working gig and Mr. Johnson turned out to be Fay’s longest relationship, albeit a professional one.

Bernie knew Fay was gay, but, again, Fay kept that part of his life private.  Bernie met Fay’s old Army buddy Mac and his partner Bill in New York and they often met up with Alfred. One time, they drove from Michigan to Florida in Fay’s big Pontiac just for a visit with Alfred and his family. He told me that all of these men from Fay’s earlier life were pretty flashy, they wore lots of jewelry, were always dressed to the nines. He liked them all.

“I was never sure what to believe,” Bernie said. “He could sure spin a tale. But I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for Fay. He taught me about hard work and to never judge people.” Bernie, who died in 2018, became an ordained minister later in his life.

But, unknown to all of us, Fay was really living on the edge at this point. It turned out that all that fancy furniture in Fay’s apartment was a rent-to-own and none of it belonged to him. He had always been careless with money and as he inched toward 80, he had no resources left to fall back on.

Fay and great grandson Bryan 1981

He stopped working for Mr. Johnson at some point in his late 70s and gone were the car and the salary. So much of his earnings were not straightforward so his Social Security was not even close to adequate. He had lived in the moment, but it seemed that he was running out of time.

And then he was diagnosed with lung cancer. Fay was really sick and he didn’t tell anyone in the family. He had a cadre of friends caring for him when my cousin Georgia went for a visit and she could see that a crisis needed to be averted. She called in her reluctant parents, mine were miles away in Arizona, and staged an intervention.

It was clear that there wasn’t any money and no resources to help this old, sick and dying man.

Georgia once told me that Grandpa Fay was a soul that wanted to be greater than he was. It seems to me that, in the end, he was a pretty great guy. He, like everyone else, had made mistakes along the way and he was also loved and cherished by a wide cast of characters. He never seemed to ask for that much, so I hope that was ultimately enough for him.

Fay laughing it up in 1943

I remember him as someone who loved to laugh and that was a gift he gave to all of us in the family.