On Ezra MacRae and Mel MacOde . . . and Hugo Rodgers
A few people have asked me about the exact nature of the relationship between Ezra and Mel in Streets of Nashville. At least one has followed that question with this one: “Are they gay?”
I understand why some readers might ask. Ezra and Mel end their phone calls with “Love you, Ez” and “Love you, too” or vice versa. Main character Ezra thinks of Mel often and, once the danger of Hugo Rodgers breaks into his life, often longs to be home—and safe—with Mel in Runion. In addition to these examples, they’re comfortable expressing their love for each other physically. Early in the novel, after an evening of hanging out at the Runion Pizzeria, they take leave of each other this way:
“Interesting,” Mel said again through another yawn and a shiver.
Ezra grinned, knowing Mel was done for the evening. “Bring it in,” he said.
As was their ritual when parting, they cupped the back of each other’s neck with their left hands and touched foreheads together. Then Mel lifted Ezra in a bear hug.
“Love you, Chief,” Ezra grunted. “Love you, too, Ez.” Mel set him down, and they stepped apart. “Drive safe tomorrow and watch your back in the big city.”
Given the past half century (at least) of life in the United States of America, questioning the sexuality of these characters is understandable. But are they gay? No, they’re not. Their bond might be understood in the context of male friendship or homosociality. They’ve been raised—and have, in a sense, raised themselves—without the cultural taboos against expressions of love in friendship (the Greek philia). As for the physicality evident in their relationship, the novel alludes a few times to the boys-will-be-boys activity of wrestling that can be fairly common from childhood into young adulthood. The suggestion in the novel is that this wrestling has been a significant part of their fun growing up and has allowed them to be unashamedly physical in the expression of their feelings for each other.
Ezra and Mel grew up in the 1960s and ’70s, and Streets of Nashville takes place in 1989, as they’re entering their thirties. Not surprisingly, I grew up in the same time period but not with the freedom they feel. I never saw my dad embrace another man—not even my brother or me, as I recall. (That might have changed if we’d had more time with him; he died in 1996, at the age of 65.) These days, I freely hug my sons, male cousins, brother, and many of my male friends—hug them hello and hug them goodbye.
Society and culture don’t necessarily make it easy for men like Ezra and Mel to have a deep, rich, expressive friendship. In John Mellencamp’s song “Check It Out,” the second verse reads:
(Check it out)
Going to work on Monday
(Check it out)
Got yourself a family
(Check it out)
All utility bills have been paid
You can’t tell your best buddy that you love him
Three out of the four lines—not counting the “Check it out” interjections—are characteristic behaviors expected of a “man” in the US: heading a “traditional” family, going to work, paying the bills. But to “tell your best buddy that you love him”? This isn’t broadly accepted masculine behavior. It remains eyebrow-raising if not outright frowned upon.
As I suggested above, this has been the case for at least fifty years. Those who’ve directly asked me about the relationship between Ezra and Mel have heard me tell the following story in my attempt to make these characters understandable. Back around 1975, I was sitting in my high school civics class as a discussion or lecture was taking place. I no longer remember the context, but I remember the much-loved-and-feared instructor J.D. Wallin saying something like this (and I paraphrase):
I feel sorry for you young men in the class because you can’t express your love for you best friends. When I was your age, I could go to Mars Hill with my best friend on a Saturday. We could go see a movie together and have popcorn for a dime. We could walk down the street afterward with our arms around each other’s shoulders, and nobody thought a thing about it. You young men can’t do that anymore.
That’s among the few things I remember from high school, and it came to mind time and again as I created Ezra and Mel and the relationship between them. I wanted them to be more like Mr. Wallin and his friend than like the homophobes of the last half century and more who would deny my characters these outlets of expression.
I think of the characters’ parents as well. Ezra’s father is a Presbyterian minister, and his mother is vivacious and outgoing—a minister’s wife who plays anything but second fiddle to her minister husband. Such a household, in which Ezra is an only child, stands somewhat apart from the stereotypical family structure implied in Mellencamp’s lyric.
While readers know just a bit about Ezra’s family, they know almost nothing about Mel’s. But, as author, I know. Mel’s mother is a native of Amsterdam, capital of The Netherlands. His father met her there in the years after World War II and eventually invited her to the US and married her. They were farmers and raised Mel and his younger brother Curtis into a life dictated more by nature and its rhythms and relationships than by popular culture.
Look for more on Mel MacOde in an upcoming novel tentatively titled A Summer Abroad. I hope to have a draft of it finished by the end of 2026. We’ll see how—and if—it makes its way out into the world from that point.
A few words on Hugo Rodgers: Unlike Ezra and Mel, Hugo, almost a generation older, is gay, but also unlike Ezra and Mel, he grew up internalizing the homophobia of his father and family, his football coaches, his preacher, pretty much his entire southern Mississippi culture of the 1940s and ’50s. Somewhere beneath his internalized homophobia, he loves Lucio and crushes on Ezra. The novel, I hope, gives readers the sense that he would—if he could—give up this self-hatred and be as happy in life and love as anybody can be. But he is unable to let go, and the torment he’s unable to transcend drives him downward to dark places and catastrophic actions.
An AI-generated image of Hugo’s eyes.
