A
AlvinofDiaspar
Guest
From the Globe:
The naked and the wet
The battles never end at Hanlan's Point, where no one seems to agree about the fate of the clothing-optional beach
JOHN BARBER
'Don't the nudists get lifeguards?" I asked a young man of that very type -- a lifeguard -- at Hanlan's Point Beach one morning this week, noting that his stand was located on the far side of the sign delimiting the beach's famous "clothing-optional" area (where all the people were), and facing the clothing-compulsory area (where nobody was).
"That's what I am," he said, defensively.
It's a touchy subject, I learned later, one of many that resonate in the soft warm air of this unique, historic and beautiful urban place. Not only is the unusual location of the lifeguard stand contested, so are the borders of the clothing-optional realm from which it is discreetly separated, not to mention the activities that occur within that realm.
Is this beach a semi-institutionalized kind of "queer space" -- one of those generally out-of-view nooks where gay men cruise and have sex? Or is it plain public space? What is the etiquette here, the only place in Toronto where a city bylaw overrules the Criminal Code?
Then there is the most fundamental question of all: Who owns it? The Mississauga Indians say they never gave up the islands in the course of their sad dealings with the Crown 200 years ago, and filed a credible land claim a decade ago demanding their return. "The Mississaugas . . . are adamant that they would never have knowingly surrendered the Toronto islands, as they were very sacred ground with significant religious and spiritual importance," they state in a summary of their claim.
Historical accounts confirm the importance of the islands as a healing place for native people. Long before it earned its current name, Hanlan's Point Beach was a clothing-optional refuge from the stresses of everyday life.
But never uncontested, and not always peaceful.
Last Sunday, sunbather Carl Morey was so upset by the sight of a police patrol on the beach that he wrote a letter to the mayor about it. "The appearance and demeanour of the police were unsettling, even threatening, and decidedly aggressive, an impression that it seemed they intended to make," he complained, adding that they issued tickets to nude sunbathers who had strayed beyond the currently unmarked southern boundary of the clothing-optional area.
"We know that the police disliked the clothing-optional beach when Council first authorized it," he wrote, "and it seems that this attitude has not changed."
Regardless of what happened Sunday, Mr. Morey has a point about the past. When the city most recently gave its blessing to nudism here, police responded by enforcing an old harbour commission bylaw banning skinny dips. People could lie on the beach naked, but had to put on their trunks to swim.
But those days are past, according to Staff Sergeant John Badowski of the marine unit, which polices the islands. "That beach is no different from any other beach in Toronto, as far as I know," he says. Lifeguards do most of the watching, and police respond to complaints that are mainly about drinking and disorderly conduct. "We don't have a lot of spare time for beaches."
If nudists do stray outside the boundary, they are cited for trespassing rather than being nude in a public place, contrary to Section 174 of the Criminal Code. But it's still no big deal, according to Staff-Sgt. Badowksi. "Can people miss a sign?" he asks. "Sure they can."
One problem, according to Mr. Morey, is that there is no sign marking the southern border of the clothing-optional area. And on a sunny weekend, the constrained clothing-optional section is packed while the rest of the beach is virtually empty. "Why not just make the beach larger than it is?" he asks.
Why fence out the very people who have responded most enthusiastically to the city's invitation to recolonize our cleaned-up but still neglected beaches?
One concern that divides those very people is the extent to which nude means lewd. A group called the Hanlan's Beach Naturists is adamant about the distinction. "Sexual activity belongs in the bedroom, not on the beach or nearby public areas," it instructs in a pamphlet distributed to beach-goers.
But the group's zeal to stamp out sex has angered some gay users, who point out that Hanlan's was "queer space" long before council decreed it clothing-optional in 1999. As a former lifeguard who patrolled there in the 1970s, I can vouch for that.
And who can say how old that tradition is? Council first designated part of this beach clothing-optional in the late 19th century. Until prudery shut it down in 1930, it was packed with naked men.
The gay nudists at Hanlan's today are like artists who gentrify neglected neighbourhoods, making them safe for the rest. Today, Hanlan's enthusiasts point out that more and more "couples" are using the beach. "I think people are very slow to catch on," says Mr. Morey, a retired professor and habitué of the clothing-optional strip. "But gay or not, it has been very popular."
Maybe some day Hanlan's Point will once again become popular enough to draw serious crowds, as it did in the days when it was a booming amusement park that called itself "Canada's Coney Island." Maybe the Mississaugas of the New Credit will make life interesting by blockading the runway of the airport that did so much to end those days. There is no end to the claims made on this "sacred ground," no end to the possibilities.
AoD
The naked and the wet
The battles never end at Hanlan's Point, where no one seems to agree about the fate of the clothing-optional beach
JOHN BARBER
'Don't the nudists get lifeguards?" I asked a young man of that very type -- a lifeguard -- at Hanlan's Point Beach one morning this week, noting that his stand was located on the far side of the sign delimiting the beach's famous "clothing-optional" area (where all the people were), and facing the clothing-compulsory area (where nobody was).
"That's what I am," he said, defensively.
It's a touchy subject, I learned later, one of many that resonate in the soft warm air of this unique, historic and beautiful urban place. Not only is the unusual location of the lifeguard stand contested, so are the borders of the clothing-optional realm from which it is discreetly separated, not to mention the activities that occur within that realm.
Is this beach a semi-institutionalized kind of "queer space" -- one of those generally out-of-view nooks where gay men cruise and have sex? Or is it plain public space? What is the etiquette here, the only place in Toronto where a city bylaw overrules the Criminal Code?
Then there is the most fundamental question of all: Who owns it? The Mississauga Indians say they never gave up the islands in the course of their sad dealings with the Crown 200 years ago, and filed a credible land claim a decade ago demanding their return. "The Mississaugas . . . are adamant that they would never have knowingly surrendered the Toronto islands, as they were very sacred ground with significant religious and spiritual importance," they state in a summary of their claim.
Historical accounts confirm the importance of the islands as a healing place for native people. Long before it earned its current name, Hanlan's Point Beach was a clothing-optional refuge from the stresses of everyday life.
But never uncontested, and not always peaceful.
Last Sunday, sunbather Carl Morey was so upset by the sight of a police patrol on the beach that he wrote a letter to the mayor about it. "The appearance and demeanour of the police were unsettling, even threatening, and decidedly aggressive, an impression that it seemed they intended to make," he complained, adding that they issued tickets to nude sunbathers who had strayed beyond the currently unmarked southern boundary of the clothing-optional area.
"We know that the police disliked the clothing-optional beach when Council first authorized it," he wrote, "and it seems that this attitude has not changed."
Regardless of what happened Sunday, Mr. Morey has a point about the past. When the city most recently gave its blessing to nudism here, police responded by enforcing an old harbour commission bylaw banning skinny dips. People could lie on the beach naked, but had to put on their trunks to swim.
But those days are past, according to Staff Sergeant John Badowski of the marine unit, which polices the islands. "That beach is no different from any other beach in Toronto, as far as I know," he says. Lifeguards do most of the watching, and police respond to complaints that are mainly about drinking and disorderly conduct. "We don't have a lot of spare time for beaches."
If nudists do stray outside the boundary, they are cited for trespassing rather than being nude in a public place, contrary to Section 174 of the Criminal Code. But it's still no big deal, according to Staff-Sgt. Badowksi. "Can people miss a sign?" he asks. "Sure they can."
One problem, according to Mr. Morey, is that there is no sign marking the southern border of the clothing-optional area. And on a sunny weekend, the constrained clothing-optional section is packed while the rest of the beach is virtually empty. "Why not just make the beach larger than it is?" he asks.
Why fence out the very people who have responded most enthusiastically to the city's invitation to recolonize our cleaned-up but still neglected beaches?
One concern that divides those very people is the extent to which nude means lewd. A group called the Hanlan's Beach Naturists is adamant about the distinction. "Sexual activity belongs in the bedroom, not on the beach or nearby public areas," it instructs in a pamphlet distributed to beach-goers.
But the group's zeal to stamp out sex has angered some gay users, who point out that Hanlan's was "queer space" long before council decreed it clothing-optional in 1999. As a former lifeguard who patrolled there in the 1970s, I can vouch for that.
And who can say how old that tradition is? Council first designated part of this beach clothing-optional in the late 19th century. Until prudery shut it down in 1930, it was packed with naked men.
The gay nudists at Hanlan's today are like artists who gentrify neglected neighbourhoods, making them safe for the rest. Today, Hanlan's enthusiasts point out that more and more "couples" are using the beach. "I think people are very slow to catch on," says Mr. Morey, a retired professor and habitué of the clothing-optional strip. "But gay or not, it has been very popular."
Maybe some day Hanlan's Point will once again become popular enough to draw serious crowds, as it did in the days when it was a booming amusement park that called itself "Canada's Coney Island." Maybe the Mississaugas of the New Credit will make life interesting by blockading the runway of the airport that did so much to end those days. There is no end to the claims made on this "sacred ground," no end to the possibilities.
AoD