For thirty five years (roughly 1980 to 2015), it was my club, which is the only place to which I went for a swim or diving, yes, but also the company of people I’d known for decades and with whom I could continue conversations.
Here I incidentally learned both to swim better and to dive off a springboard much better than before, until I got too old to improve and stabilization became my goal. In leaving Coles pool I would sometimes stop to watch on the other space of the reception space the division III basketball games, both male and female. Once a year a populous fencing tournament would fill the basketball floor.
In the sauna that was its social center I got know people I wouldn’t otherwise meet, may they be professors, graduate students, artists, firemen, and priests. Some men who’d been at NYU for only a short spell would be remembered years afterwards; likewise, some who’d died. From sauna friends I purchased my first Mac computer, I got advice on the best primary physician to see, and I hired one regular for computer assistance. One fellow swimmer continues to send me links to articles I’d like to read. To others I’d speak of the “boys at Coles,” because that’s what we were, even if advanced in years.
Though women also patronized Coles, we never talked about them, to disappointment of one woman who imagined that all men lusted for her. When one uncouth guy complained about his divorcing wife, we ignored him. In the sauna was a continuous conversation, mostly serious, most memorably about current sports, art, and opera, but also about other subjects.
When I was invited to join a venerable uptown club, whose members like to eat and drink together, I asked if it had a swimming pool. As not, fergetaboutit.
When NYU closed Coles, prior to its demolition, my connection to this university had come to an end. Notwithstanding its short life as an enchanting venue, less than forty years, in its place was a multi-purpose building that includes a swimming pool but no diving boards and no sauna. One of us who went to the replacement venue gave it a negative report that I circulated with others. I didn’t return; nor did anyone else.
P.S. One of my Coles buddies, reading a draft of this text, replied: This is one of the saddest epitaphs I have ever read. Yes, alas.
A very moving commentary. This type of experience is repeated throughout the world. My personal reference is the morning “StammKaffee” or coffee shop where year after year one developed friendships and the life adventures of everyone was shared. When such a key part of one’s daily
life disappears, one is saddened by that which will never again brighten our existence.
F.