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In 2003 Bill Jay moved to a small seaside town in Southern California. It is a laid-back, tolerant kind of place where an assortment of ex-hippies, surfers, bikers, Vietnam vets and old men make the beach and the alleys their home. His daughter, regarding his new surroundings, remarked: “You ?t right in here, Dad, there are a lot of old geezers here who look like you.” In other words, over-the-hill, sartorially challenged men with abundant facial hair. So began the wonderful project that is Men Like Me. But these are not voyeuristic images snapped by a detached observer. There is a great deal of warmth and respect in these pictures, and a humor that conveys the spirit of both the photographer and the photographed. Whenever possible, Jay gave his “sitters” a copy of their portrait; one day he was led to an alley room near the beach, often used as a refuge. There were all the prints, taped to the wall for an exhibition self-deprecatingly entitled “The Wall of Shame.” An immensely readable introductory essay by Bill Jay tells the rest of the story.