The Sullivanians and Amagansett (the bittersweet Summer of 1974)

Forty years ago the Sullivanians were exposed by  NewYork Magazine and the Village Voice for their insidious practices, but as far as I know, Through A Blue Window is the only first-hand accounting, and the next episode of the podcast is about Amagansett and the group.

I'd been in the group for six months, but I had no idea what to expect as I headed out to the East End of Long Island to spend the summer cleaning summerhouses. It was Memorial Day 1974, and during the long train ride, I  finally learned the details of what had only previously been alluded to and the importance of maintaining a veil of secrecy from the locals. 

This episode is also about  Monica Cipro, the first and only relationship I had with a woman, and despite falling in love with each other that summer, a cold wind of conflicting views about the group ended what had barely begun. 

I would spend four more years in the group. You can see the complete documentary on my YouTube channel  shellfein1

The complete documentary Through a BlueWindow can be seen on my youtube channel shellfein1. I would love to hear your thoughts.
Thank you

Chapters

• 0:00 Summer House Rituals and Relationships
• 10:53 Relationship Struggles and Miscommunication

Transcript

Speaker 1: 1:54

Ever since my arrival in the group, whenever Amagansett was spoken about it was in harsh, conspiratorial tones. And now it was Memorial Day, weekend Classes had ended and I was heading out to Amagansett to spend my summer. None the wiser, I parlayed my apartment cleaning jobs into cleaning the summer houses, hoping to make enough money to meet all of my expenses. Lainey, with whom I had been dating since first meeting on Thanksgiving Day and who I considered one of my best friends, was my date for the train ride and a sleepover later that night. We were meeting under the clock at Penn Station at five o'clock. Unfortunately, there were approximately five hundred other people who had the same idea. Lainey, a hand shut up, waving wildly above the crowd and with only moments to spare. Lainey helped me scoop up my duffel and painting gear and pushed aggressively through the crowd. The Syllevanians were out in force and had infiltrated the Long Island Railroad like a swarm of ants at a picnic, sending rush hour communes fleeing to other cars. The overhead bins were filled to the gun walls with the usual and unusual Suitcases and duffels basketballs, golf clubs, typewriters, tennis rackets and scuba gear, musical instruments and amplifiers and shopping bags of food. Licustaches appeared, sweaty bodies moved about unsteadily, and while some couples got hot and heavy in their seats, the more impatient ones had sex in the bathroom. It was a four hour ride and Lainey and I were both a bit drunk when she finally opened up about the oranges of what had become a summer ritual.

Speaker 1: 4:00

In the late 1950s, seth Lewin and June Getty's and other leaders of the Institute became vacationing in Amagansett, usually a very peaceful hamlet on the eastern shore of Long Island. When the trainee program began in the late 60s, the trainees followed Seth and then the patients followed the trainees. The therapist summer homes were hidden away on barns hole landing back from the road under the trees, and weekend sessions were available, albeit in a bathing suit if needed. The renting of summer homes became ritualized. In early April, several group apartments, usually three or four, joined together to allay expenses and from that larger group the straightest looking were picked people with real jobs like teachers and social workers to travel to Amagansett in search of summer rentals. They had to give the impression they were renting for other professional men or women and they had to have checkable references. This was important subterfuge, because the local real estate agents could have no idea who they were really renting to. As the bonnickers. Those who lived there year round wanted no part of the solovadians with their loud parties and debian sexual experiments in their town and thought because some women held hands they were lesbians to boot.

Speaker 1: 5:36

Weekends were crammed with committee meetings of all kind Cooking, car shopping, party planning and maintenance. But the most important committee was the date room committee. In smaller houses the bedrooms were commandeered and a very complex schedule was devised. Those not slated for a date room on any given weekend night slept together dorm style on mattresses in one large room. Our common room was the attic, but if you were lucky, your date might have a date room when you didn't. In years past the group rented modest houses in Amagansett, but this year many more apartments had joined together and were renting actual mansions in Eastampton, equipped with a pool, tennis courts, sculpted gardens and a billet's room.

Speaker 1: 6:35

Amagansett was a time to indulge in your wildest fantasies, like a summer camp for grown-ups, with parties beginning after the beach and stretching into the night. All night Live bands played, there were many talented musicians in the group and everyone was drinking and dancing and having sex. Dancing was in huge circles, but no party was complete without dancing the bump to the song of 1974. Lady Marmellade, voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir? By the time the conductor called out next stop, amagansett, lainey had completed her condensed history and soon we were standing on the platform stretching and breathing in the salty sea air as the dark, misty shapes of low-lying trees came into focus. The thick smell of honeysuckle exposed a wave of free-floating anxiety within me, and I was immediately transported to Parents' Day at Camp Indian Lake the summer after my ninth birthday. Once again, my mother was late and somehow I knew this time she wasn't coming at all. Sheila, at thirteen, was detailed to give me the news. She found me and my cot already crying Mommy's not coming. She explained with sympathy it's too long a trip for her to make in one day. Why the fuck did she wait until the last minute, I screamed at her, and why the fuck did she send us here at all? With a shiver, the memory faded and Lainey and I were swallowed by the darkness and echo of the sea as we made our way down the dark country road.

Speaker 1: 8:25

In April, monica Cipro had been the one unfamiliar face at the first summer house meeting and it was hard to miss the lingering glances she seemed to be sending my way. Afterwards she introduced herself and we made a bunch of dates. After all, we were going to be in the same summer house. I had dismissed my one night with Heidi as a drunken rondele, but I couldn't dismiss my feelings for Monica or hers. For me, our first date was spent in the Impressionist Galleries at the Museum of Modern Art. Afterwards we walked across Central Park to the Upper West Side, ending up in my room as we were playing a game of cards. Monica leaned over and caressed my breath, kissing me tenderly on the mouth. When I told Freddie, all she asked was whether we touched each other down there. We had, and I wasn't ashamed, and though it was my first experience with a woman, it was startingly familiar and erotic and I was falling in love.

Speaker 1: 9:36

Monica had been unsure about joining the summer house at all, but in the end had decided on a half-share of alternating weekends. When she arrived the following weekend on the 10 am milk run, we were immediately thrust into summer house activities, but I was lucky enough to have been scheduled for a date room that night. Hours later we were finally alone in the small room at the top of the stairs with its balmy sea-breathing and flowered wallpaper. It was my birthday and when I shared that Schiele's birthday was in two days and that as children we'd always celebrated on the day, in the middle, monica suggested I call her. I knew Monica spoke to her mother on occasion but we'd never talked about it and I knew I wasn't going to be calling Schiele and was annoyed that it had been suggested because we had waited all day to be alone. After a while the comment was forgotten, but in the morning a tempest arose and we argued as passionately as we had made love the night before and I lashed out at her.

Speaker 1: 10:53

I think you should stop calling your family and take a full share in the house and come out to amigance it more often. That's really ironic, korra, because I was going to tell you that after this weekend I can see that this isn't all for me. I don't believe you. I think this is all about you repudiating our relationship and letting your ex-husband and your family control your life. Monica's face went into lockdown. She walked away from me Before speaking, her skin parallel than usual before her sunburned cheeks.

Speaker 1: 11:33

You have no right to talk to me like that. You're not my therapist and you should consider that you've been brainwashed and you are more involved in the group than I care to be or that you should be. You can accept that, can't you? I think you should speak to your therapist. Monica, I love you, don't you want to be with me? Please stop saying I should talk to my therapist, because it makes me angry. And, if you must know, I did speak to her earlier this morning and she said to do what feels right for me. I do love you, but I can't do this. Coming here was a mistake. Then she picked up her small knapsack and left the room. Monica wouldn't return my calls the following week after our argument. She asked the summer house for her money back and her therapist had agreed that she wouldn't be coming back to Amaganset after all.