As if Provincetown needed any promotion going into August, the New Yorker magazine published a short profile of the town by Hannah Goldfield, titled “Beach Boys,” in its July 29 issue.
Goldfield’s portrait of Provincetown is accurate and entertaining but extremely limited. Readers who have never visited here would not know that more than 70 percent of the town is in a national park — the Cape Cod National Seashore — and that Provincetown is a go-to place for swimming and sailing, recreational fishing, whale watching, birding, and hiking the dunes. Nor would they know of the thriving art and theater scene here or the talented street musicians that abound. And they would know nothing of the wonderfully diverse population that exists year-round.
Goldfield begins her piece by saying “among the few decisions a visitor has to make is whether to attend Tea (short for Tea Dance)” at the Boatslip. There is a brief reference to Herring Cove, but only as a way to get to Boy Beach, described as a gay destination with not a word about the absolute beauty of the dunes, the beach, and the bay.
To be fair, Goldfield is a food writer, and she describes two of the town’s signature restaurants, the Mayflower and Sal’s Place, in amusing and sharp detail — although I object to her reference to Salvatore Del Deo, the founder of Sal’s, as “a showman.” Sal, about to have his 96th birthday, is a nationally recognized artist who is also a creative chef. He started his restaurant in 1962 largely as a way to support his family and his true love, painting, which he still pursues.
Also, in fairness, Goldfield does a credible job of presenting in a single paragraph a snapshot of the historical span of the town from the Pilgrims’ visit to the present. It is almost as if she had the assistance of our own David Dunlap; perhaps she did.
I think what is bothering me about the piece is its too-sharp focus on a too-limited aspect of the town. I fully realize that Provincetown is a gay resort, and that is a good thing. But it is not only a gay resort. I risk being misunderstood, I know, but I would make a case for the broader appeal of the town that speaks to all of us — residents and visitors alike — regardless of our orientation. The salt air, the cooling breezes, the gulls sailing over Commercial Street are there for all of us and don’t give a damn about our preferences.
I realize, too, that some of the ebullient energy of the gay scene — and its promotion — stems from many years of repression and homophobia, as if a heavy rock has been finally lifted to allow a lovely flower to blossom. But many of us, gay and straight alike, envision an opportunity for a post-gay era, where sexual preference is barely relevant to how we live our lives. In fact, many of us already live in that era. My friends, neighbors, and co-workers fall into all categories of preference, and who the hell cares?
I really do enjoy seeing drag queens careening down Commercial Street and same-sex couples proudly holding hands, but I have seen T-shirt slogans that go too far. Jeremy Hobson, quoted in Goldfield’s piece, says, “You could walk down the street in a jockstrap and nobody would bat an eye.” I would. The streets should remain child-friendly. Good taste and decorum are not fuddy-duddy values but signs of respect and civility. What all of us have in common is our love for this very special place: we need to share it.
Believe it or not, in our almost 60 years of living here, my wife and I have never been to Tea Dance. Maybe it’s not too late.
