After World War II my father was among the legion of veterans who took advantage of the GI Bill. He and his bride headed to Purdue University in LaFayette, Ind. With all those vets, housing was at a premium and the only place they could find was within a block of a bordello.
As the story goes, the cathouse wasn’t a big secret. Apparently the city fathers looked the other way.
I mention this bit of licentious family history because there have been two stories recently that bring to light that prostitution is going on right here in our little polis. At one time that was the kind of thing people moved to places like Sandy Springs to distance themselves from. Or thought they were.
Should we be shocked? I hope not. The sex trade has been an ubiquitous part of human history; it even shows up frequently in the Bible. I just don’t like to think about it happening in our backyard.
Prostitution doesn’t attract the most savory of humankind. When you have one person selling sex plus one person buying sex, and both of them knowing it’s illegal, there’s not much chance of good karma.
Several years ago I was allowed to spend the evening with the Atlanta Police Department’s vice squad. They were running a sting operation to catch men cruising from the suburbs to the edgier sections of Midtown for retail coitus.
A police woman played the part of the prostitute. The detectives and I played the part of winos sprawled in a vacant lot. The operation was like shooting fish in a barrel. Had they wanted to they could have filled a school bus with unhappy customers within a few hours.
I wonder what might happen if the same sting was carried out in our backyard? What fish might be tangled in that net? Yes, I realize that men who might be out shopping are likely to come from all over, but I wouldn’t bet that there isn’t a rabid local fan base.
Nothing good comes from this. Forget about the rest of us and just think about those who sell their bodies and those who buy them. I don’t think healthy, happy people are involved in such doings. That night in Midtown the men didn’t look too jolly, but they were, after all, handcuffed when I met them.
I hope that this will remind us all that there are no crime-free communities, so if that’s why you came here the disappointment fairy will be dropping by any day now to burst your bubble. The only thing we can control is how we choose to do battle with the lawbreakers.
As a coda I should mention I have no idea what ever became of that post-war doxy parlor in Indiana. My folks located a place in a nicer area and moved on faster than you could say “show me the money.”
Jim Osterman lives in Sandy Springs. Reach him at jimosterman@rocketmail.com
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