A friend from New York was visiting Chicago for the first time, in part to look at architecture. We viewed buildings by Louis Sullivan and Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, and on a warm August Sunday drove out to see the Frank Lloyd Wright houses in Oak Park and River Forest. We got out of our rented car to look at one early home in River Forest and stood silently on the sidewalk, perhaps eight feet apart. Within a minute, a dour, shirtless man walked out the front door. “Father and son?” he inquired. “No,” I replied. “Faggots,” he responded, as he turned to go back inside.

–Fred Camper

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