In this Wednesday, Jan. 25, 2017 file photo, Marsha Wetzel sits for a portrait in her room at Glen Saint Andrew Living Community in Niles, Ill. Wetzel moved into the senior apartment complex after her... (Associated Press) 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO (AP) — The unwanted were turned away from cafeteria tables. Fistfights broke out at karaoke. Dances became breeding grounds for gossip and cruelty. 
 
 It became clear this place had a bullying problem on its hands. What many found surprising was that the perpetrators and victims alike were all senior citizens. 
 
 Nursing homes, senior centers and housing complexes for the elderly have introduced programs, training and policies aimed at curbing spates of bullying, an issue once thought the exclusive domain of the young. 
 
 "There's the clique system just like everywhere else," said Betsy Gran, who until recently was assistant director at San Francisco's 30th Street Senior Center. "It's like 'Mean Girls,' but everyone is 80." 
 
 After the cafeteria exiles and karaoke brouhahas, the 30th Street Center teamed up with a local nonprofit, the Institute on Aging, to develop an anti-bullying program. All staff members received 18 hours of training that included lessons on what constitutes bullying, causes of the problem and how to manage such conflicts. Seniors were then invited to similar classes, held in English and Spanish, teaching them to alert staff or intervene themselves if they witness bullying. Signs and even place mats around the center now declare it a "Bully Free Zone." 
 
 "I think in the past I would have just stayed out of it," said Mary Murphy, 86, a retired real estate agent who took the classes. "Now I might be inclined to help." 
 
 Robin Bonifas, a social work professor at Arizona State University and author of the book "Bullying Among Older Adults: How to Recognize and Address an Unseen Epidemic," said existing studies suggest about 1 in 5 seniors encounters bullying. She sees it as an outgrowth of frustrations characteristic in communal settings, as well a reflection of issues unique to getting older. Many elderly see their independence and sense of control disappear and, for some, becoming a bully can feel like regaining some of that lost power. 
 
 "It makes them feel very out of control," Bonifas said, "and the way they sort of get on top of things and make their name in this new world is intimidating, picking on people, gossiping." 
 
 There is far less recognition of bullying as a problem among seniors compared with young people. Even among those who have been called bullies, many are unaware how problematic their behavior is until it's labeled. Campaigns around the country have sought to spread the word, including a booklet circulated last year by the National Center for Assisted Living. 
 
 "In the life cycle, it doesn't go away," said Katherine Arnold, a member of the city Human Rights Commission in St. Louis Park, Minnesota, which created a public service announcement on its community-access station that included a portrayal of a man who was excluded from a card game and became the subject of gossip by other seniors. "There's really not a lot of escape." 
 
 Most senior bullying isn't physical but rather involves name-calling, rumors and exclusion, said Pamela Countouris, a longtime schoolteacher who now runs a Pittsburgh-based consultancy that offers training on bullying. Women constitute the bulk of the bullies Countouris encounters among seniors, a reflection of lifespan disparities and the gender makeup of those who live at or participate in programs at senior facilities. 
 
 Countouris' business began with a focus on school bullying but now centers exclusively on seniors. In the next month alone, she has more than a dozen training sessions planned. 
 
 After four years immersed in the wrath of older bullies, Countouris has heard all manner of stories. At a senior high-rise, a woman who saw herself as the queen of the parking garage would key the cars of those who crossed her. Elsewhere, laundry rooms became vicious places where the bullied had their detergent stolen and their clothes thrown on the floor. Bingo rooms so often devolved into battlefields — with lucky newcomers badgered and accused of cheating by veteran players — she came to call it "the devil's game." 
 
 "I didn't realize it was an underground society where people could be mean to each other," Countouris said. 
 
 In the worst cases, bullying goes far beyond bingo squabbles. Marsha Wetzel moved into a senior apartment complex in Niles, Illinois, after her partner of 30 years died and her partner's family evicted her from the home the couple shared. At Glen St. Andrew Living Community, she said she was met with relentless bullying by residents mostly focused on her being a lesbian. 
 
 One man hit Wetzel's scooter with his walker and unleashed a barrage of homophobic slurs. A woman rammed her wheelchair into Wetzel's table in the dining room and knocked it over, warning "homosexuals will burn in hell." In the mailroom, someone knocked her in the head, and in an elevator, she was spit on. 
 
 "I'd just go in my room and barricade my door and just pray," said Wetzel, now 70 and living at a senior complex in Chicago. "I just felt like a slug, like I was nothing, like I wasn't even human." 
 
 Lambda Legal, which defends LGBTQ rights, took on Wetzel's case and sued Glen St. Andrew, claiming Fair Housing Act violations. A federal judge dismissed the suit last year. An appeals court decision is pending. 
 
 Wetzel had seen such bullying throughout her life. She dropped out of high school when she became a punching bag for the girls who learned she was a lesbian. As a senior, she said, it felt even more traumatic — and the bullies even more vicious. She had a view of a cemetery from her window and would stare at it, thinking maybe only when she arrived there would she find peace. 
 
 "I felt like a person in a pool of piranhas," she said. 
 
 ___ 
 
 Sedensky can be reached at msedensky@ap.org or https://twitter.com/sedensky ||||| Marsha Wetzel says her senior living home failed to halt the physical and verbal abuse other residents inflicted on her for being a lesbian. 
 
 The home, Glen St. Andrew Living Community in Niles, maintains that it did not discriminate against Wetzel and that her claims stem from “ongoing squabbles with an older male resident and a couple of isolated incidents with two elderly female residents.” The allegations do not merit a federal case under the Fair Housing Act, no matter how “cranky or offensive” the residents’ words have been, the home’s attorneys said. 
 
 A federal judge last year dismissed Wetzel’s lawsuit, but a 7th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals panel in Chicago heard arguments Tuesday that could revive discrimination claims against Glen St. Andrew for allegedly failing to protect the 70-year old woman. 
 
 In the coming months, the three-judge panel could send the case back to district court. If that happens, the lawsuit could set a precedent by clarifying that sexual orientation discrimination is a form of sex discrimination under the Fair Housing Act, said Wetzel’s attorney, Karen Loewy. 
 
 But first, the legal system must grapple with the thorny question of what a landlord’s obligations are under federal law to stop harassment of one resident by others. 
 
 Glen St. Andrew’s attorney, Lisa Hausten, argued in court filings that the home did not discriminate against Wetzel. To the contrary, the senior home defended Wetzel when she first complained and offered medical care after Wetzel said she was pushed from behind while on her scooter, Hausten argued. 
 
 But Loewy said Glen St. Andrew had the power to stop residents who discriminated against Wetzel and failed to do so. 
 
 “I felt completely scared and helpless when the people in charge at Glen St. Andrew would not protect me, but the idea that they don’t think they have to protect anyone is shocking,” Wetzel said in a statement. “The elderly deserve to be treated with respect and to feel safe no matter who they are or who they loved and I’m going to fight for us.” 
 
 The elderly deserve to be treated with respect and to feel safe no matter who they are or who they loved and I’m going to fight for us. — Marsha Wetzel 
 
 Wetzel moved from Skokie into Glen St. Andrew in November 2014 after her partner of 30 years, Judith Kahn, died of cancer. The two raised a son together. 
 
 Administrators did not express any problem with her sexual orientation in an applicant interview, but some residents responded violently once she moved in. 
 
 "They went World War III," Wetzel told the Tribune last year. “It went through this rumor mill. It got to people. I started getting called names. And in a couple of weeks, it just kept getting worse and worse and worse." 
 
 Between April 2015 and July 2016, Wetzel was attacked from behind, knocked off her scooter and called derogatory names for lesbians, her lawsuit says. 
 
 She skipped meals in the dining hall out of fear and ate alone in her room while her complaints to staff were not addressed, she said. 
 
 In their appeals court filing, Glen St. Andrew’s attorneys said Wetzel’s complaint with the senior living home is that it “did not promptly intervene in her squabbles.” 
 
 The Fair Housing Act is meant to ensure equality in housing, they argue, and is “not a vehicle to regulate disputes among neighbors.” 
 
 Five months after Wetzel moved into the home, she began “quarreling” with a “crotchety senior resident,” Glen St. Andrew’s attorneys said. 
 
 They bickered regularly, and he began calling her “fruit loop” and a homophobic slur, they said. 
 
 Glen St. Andrew defended Wetzel when she complained, and the man became more civil for a time, the home’s attorneys said. But eventually the two “returned to their squabbles,” and the man went back to using “offensive language,” they said. 
 
 Other incidents included a woman allegedly telling Wetzel that “homosexuals will burn in hell” as she rammed her wheelchair into the dining table where Wetzel sat, upturning the table, court records show. The woman spat on Wetzel in the elevator a few days later, court records show. 
 
 They basically said, ‘You want to live here, you’re going to put up with this kind of harassment.’ — Marsha Wetzel’s attorney Karen Loewy 
 
 Around that time, Wetzel was sitting on the patio telling other residents about the woman when a resident laughed and made a “sex-based comment,” the home’s attorneys said. 
 
 In January 2016, Wetzel said someone pushed her from behind while she was on her scooter in the mail room, and she said she heard the person mutter the word “homo,” according to court records. 
 
 When she told Glen St. Andrew staff, they immediately offered for her to see the on-site doctor, but she refused any medical attention, Glen St. Andrew attorneys said. 
 
 Wetzel never claims the defendants acted in a discriminatory manner, and Glen St. Andrew did not retaliate against her for complaining, they said. 
 
 Incidents outlined in Wetzel’s lawsuit about limited lobby access, a missing rental notice and cleaning service problems aren’t alleged to have anything to do with her sexual orientation, the attorneys said. 
 
 Wetzel also said she had incidents with Glen St. Andrew related to her smoking habits and the no-smoking policy at the facility, but there are no allegations those were related to “discriminatory animus,” the lawyers said. 
 
 Wetzel’s attorneys dispute that they’re trying to hold Glen St. Andrew responsible for the tenants’ alleged actions. They say they’re trying to hold the landlord responsible for its refusal to act. 
 
 “They basically said, ‘You want to live here, you’re going to put up with this kind of harassment,’ ” Loewy said. 
 
 That the discriminatory intent belonged to tenants does not clear Glen St. Andrew of responsibility for refusing to put an end to the hostile housing environment that harassment created, Loewy said. 
 
 Wetzel’s attorney also criticized Glen St. Andrew for downplaying the complaints, calling the attempts to recast the allegations as “mere ‘squabbles’ ” inappropriate and groundless. 
 
 “Contrary to defendants’ infantilizing portrayal of squabbling senior citizens, Wetzel has set forth straightforward allegations of a severe and pervasive pattern of targeted, discriminatory harassment,” Lowey argued. 
 
 One of the judges on the appeals court panel, David Hamilton, sounded skeptical that the law could be stretched to hold administrators liable for tenants’ abusive behavior. 
 
 But Judge Diane Wood suggested it could be, saying during the hearing that nobody said administrators “applauded” the abuse as it happened, only that they “shrugged their shoulders” when they learned about it. 
 
 Chicago Tribune’s Elyssa Cherney and The Associated Press contributed. 
 
 gpratt@chicagotribune.com 
 
 Twitter @royalpratt 
 
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– Bullying doesn't end as we enter our golden years, apparently. The AP has uncovered incidents of cruelty at senior centers and housing complexes that highlight the surprising ways elderly people bully one another. "There's the clique system just like everywhere else," says Betsy Gran, who once ran a senior center in San Francisco. "It's like Mean Girls, but everyone is 80." Examples? One woman at a senior high-rise considers herself ruler of the parking garage and keys the cars of her enemies. Elsewhere, there are laundry rooms where detergent is stolen or clothing is tossed on the ground. And forget about Bingo rooms—new arrivals who happen to win may end up tormented by angry veterans. Some senior facilities are hosting anti-bullying programs, which at least teach people about the problem. Most senior bullying is about exclusion, rumors, and name-calling rather than physical violence, one expert says, and is perpetrated mainly by women—which highlights the changes in gender disparity as we age. Some seniors apparently bully others to overcome a feeling of lost control that comes with age. But that's little consolation to Marsha Wetzel of Niles, Illinois, who sued a senior apartment complex after she was bullied for being lesbian, the Chicago Tribune reports. "I'd just go in my room and barricade my door and just pray," says Wetzel, now 70. "I just felt like a slug, like I was nothing, like I wasn't even human."