By 10 AM on Sunday, Hollywood Beach is already filling up with people. The volleyball games start at noon, the picnics soon after. Everywhere you look–on the grass, in the water, on the sand–there are bodies, male bodies, a sea of beefcake. Single men, couples, groups of five, gangs of twenty or more. Against a backdrop of high-rises, the beach looks like Miami or Honolulu. It’s gay Elysium.
“The first year,” he says, “people would call and say, ‘Are you going to be out there?’ I finally just said, ‘Assume I’m gonna be out there and come join us.’ Growing up, I was an outsider. Like in a Charlie Chaplin movie, watching the party, never part of it. So by this I created my own party, and I was in the middle of it. I’d been feeling lonely. I thought everybody was out dating or hanging out in bars. I thought I’d create my own little world. Obviously, everyone else was feeling the same way I was.”
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“I wanted to say this is our territory. I put the flag out to indicate this is our space, not in a negative way, just to let people know we’re here. We’re here, we’re queer, get over it, whatever that cliche is. I just knew that I was here and that people were welcome to come play. I never dreamed what was gonna happen next. One woman came up to us and said, ‘That’s a beautiful flag. Where’d you get it?’ I said, ‘Gay Mart.’ She said, ‘Kmart?’ I said, ‘No, GAY Mart. G-A-Y…’ And she took off.”
The Edgewater Beach complex always had a sizable gay population, but they weren’t really beachgoers. They preferred hanging out on the grass in the shadow of the hotel. When the two hotel buildings were torn down in 1970, leaving only the apartment complex, the small gay scene moved down to the park near the beach.
“Jump in anytime you want,” Marcoccia called out.
Every year the crowd grew exponentially, and by 1997 Hollywood Beach was where the boys were. People brought their own nets and volleyballs and started demanding to play under official rules, complete with setting and spiking. Brown and Marcoccia were forced to actually learn the basics of the game. The sunbathers now outnumbered players ten-to-one. At times, Marcoccia became despondent and refused to come down to the beach, except in spring and fall when it was less crowded and people still needed him. Brown took over the curatorial duties and hung the pride flag when Marcoccia didn’t show.
“Isn’t that the truth?” says another. “Thank you. No cars. No coolers, no families, no beer bellies. Just washboard stomachs as far as the eye can see. Well, except for mine. They’re even bringing their boats over from Belmont Harbor. My lover, he’s got a boat, and last week he hit a rock or something and was stranded out there. Three gay guys pulled up in a boat and said, ‘Don’t worry. We’ll pull you out.’ I swear, it’s better than Key West!”
