A writer spends time with Victor Campbell, a former lover of playwright Tennessee Williams:
“Outside Napoleon House the day had died and the light had shrunken into the tiny bulbs of street lamps. Campbell, who had hardly touched his beer, removed a tape player from his briefcase. Over the years, he recorded Williams reading his poems. ‘I told him a dirty joke right before I started to record, this first time, to get him relaxed before he read.’ It took some prodding, but Campbell divulged the story. He stood up at the table, placed one hand behind his back, and cleared his throat. ‘I said, ‘Hey, Tom, I was over at the pharmacy this morning and guess what I got? A penis enlarger.’ Tom looked at me, a bit shocked. He wanted to know how it worked. I said, ‘I’ll show you.’ So I pulled down my pants.’ Campbell feigned unzipping his fly and yanking down his pants. Couples sitting at two nearby tables cast furtive glances toward us. Campbell pantomimed bringing something from behind his back, holding it over his crotch. ‘Then I held up a magnifying glass.’”
