Parties and Protests
1904 is a year of protests -- from the rent wars on the Lower East Side of New York to the stockyard strikes in Chicago -- and celebrations in honor of Teddy Roosevelt's presidential win.
Kenneth Nelson (1930-1993) as Michael and Cliff Gorman (1936-2002) as Emory in The Boys in the Band by Mart Crowley, which premiered off-Broadway in April 1968; the film version followed in 1970.
As you are well aware, 1968 and 1970 were also years of protests and celebrations. Just like our own time.
To celebrate the 40th anniversary of The Boys in the Band, our friends R and C hosted a lovely dinner and viewing of the film recently made available on DVD. Fortunately K was able to join us because he'd been released from jail where he's been held following his arrest last week at a protest against Proposition 8.
K is 25 and was obviously not even alive for the premiere of either the play or the film. However, we were interested to hear about his recent adventure.
"I saw the whole thing on the local news," our host R told us. "I was on the phone with my mom, and I was like, 'OhMyGod the police are beating up K___!' It was Horrible. Even the news guy on Fox was like, 'holy shit.'"
"I was not the one who jumped on the squad car," K explained.
"No you weren't," someone else who'd seen the local news pointed out.
"You should never jump on their squad cars," a guest with apparently extensive experience in police confrontations observed. "You can't imagine how much it provokes them."
"But I was the one near enough for the cops to grab," K continued. "They yanked my sweatshirt over my head. Then they started pounding away at me."
"Thank god you worked on your abs at the gym that day," R pointed out. "They totally showed on camera."
"They did, didn't they," the adorable and young yet modest K confessed bashfully, declining to show us the remains of the bruising and injuries.
Another guest, a fan of the program "Lock Up" was anxious to know all the details of K's incarceration.
"They separate the gays from the straights," K replied. "The straights wear dark blue, the gays light blue, the dangerous ones wear orange and the crazy ones wear blue and orange."
I would have liked to pursue K's intriguing account of the color coding system, but the rest of our group was already on to other equally interesting specifics regarding life behind bars. Some of the guests began to reminisce about the old days. "Chicago," one said, meaning 1968.
"Stonewall," said someone else, meaning the Stonewall Riots of 1969.
"Kent State," said another, meaning 1970.
"Four Dead in Ohio," yet another added, referencing the Neil Young lyrics.
"Tin Soldiers and Nixon coming." I had seen a screening of Frost/Nixon the night before with Bianca and was still reeling from that emotional roller-coaster ride down memory lane.
This evening, as we proceeded to watch a film from roughly that same era, I found myself thinking how far we had all come. America, after all, has just elected her first African-American president, a president who, for the first time for any American president, specifically included gay people in his acceptance speech.
Nixon never uttered the word Gay. Ronald Reagan never even mentioned AIDS.
And here in our group were people too young to have seen where we'd come from, but old enough to know where they wanted to go. Willing to stand up for their rights, our rights; to be accepted, to be seen and heard and counted. And arrested, if need be.
I remembered how young I was when I read Thoreau's "On Civil Disobedience." I remember sneaking the April 1968 issue of Time Magazine off my dad's nightstand and studying the picture which accompanied the review of The Boys in the Band, the picture being of the actor Robert La Tourneaux who originated the role of Cowboy in the play, and who would die in 1986 of AIDS. I remember trying to imagine -- as a teenager in the middle of nowhere, in a small town in Ohio -- what it would be like to know the kind of people this play was about, the kind of men who gave a hustler to a friend for a birthday present, the kind of men who had parties like that, and lives and relationships like the ones the review talked about. Gay men. In those days there had not been a lot of people I could ask.
I looked around the room. We had come a long way, I decided.
To be continued.
Kenneth Nelson (1930-1993) as Michael and Cliff Gorman (1936-2002) as Emory in The Boys in the Band by Mart Crowley, which premiered off-Broadway in April 1968; the film version followed in 1970.
As you are well aware, 1968 and 1970 were also years of protests and celebrations. Just like our own time.
To celebrate the 40th anniversary of The Boys in the Band, our friends R and C hosted a lovely dinner and viewing of the film recently made available on DVD. Fortunately K was able to join us because he'd been released from jail where he's been held following his arrest last week at a protest against Proposition 8.
K is 25 and was obviously not even alive for the premiere of either the play or the film. However, we were interested to hear about his recent adventure.
"I saw the whole thing on the local news," our host R told us. "I was on the phone with my mom, and I was like, 'OhMyGod the police are beating up K___!' It was Horrible. Even the news guy on Fox was like, 'holy shit.'"
"I was not the one who jumped on the squad car," K explained.
"No you weren't," someone else who'd seen the local news pointed out.
"You should never jump on their squad cars," a guest with apparently extensive experience in police confrontations observed. "You can't imagine how much it provokes them."
"But I was the one near enough for the cops to grab," K continued. "They yanked my sweatshirt over my head. Then they started pounding away at me."
"Thank god you worked on your abs at the gym that day," R pointed out. "They totally showed on camera."
"They did, didn't they," the adorable and young yet modest K confessed bashfully, declining to show us the remains of the bruising and injuries.
Another guest, a fan of the program "Lock Up" was anxious to know all the details of K's incarceration.
"They separate the gays from the straights," K replied. "The straights wear dark blue, the gays light blue, the dangerous ones wear orange and the crazy ones wear blue and orange."
I would have liked to pursue K's intriguing account of the color coding system, but the rest of our group was already on to other equally interesting specifics regarding life behind bars. Some of the guests began to reminisce about the old days. "Chicago," one said, meaning 1968.
"Stonewall," said someone else, meaning the Stonewall Riots of 1969.
"Kent State," said another, meaning 1970.
"Four Dead in Ohio," yet another added, referencing the Neil Young lyrics.
"Tin Soldiers and Nixon coming." I had seen a screening of Frost/Nixon the night before with Bianca and was still reeling from that emotional roller-coaster ride down memory lane.
This evening, as we proceeded to watch a film from roughly that same era, I found myself thinking how far we had all come. America, after all, has just elected her first African-American president, a president who, for the first time for any American president, specifically included gay people in his acceptance speech.
Nixon never uttered the word Gay. Ronald Reagan never even mentioned AIDS.
And here in our group were people too young to have seen where we'd come from, but old enough to know where they wanted to go. Willing to stand up for their rights, our rights; to be accepted, to be seen and heard and counted. And arrested, if need be.
I remembered how young I was when I read Thoreau's "On Civil Disobedience." I remember sneaking the April 1968 issue of Time Magazine off my dad's nightstand and studying the picture which accompanied the review of The Boys in the Band, the picture being of the actor Robert La Tourneaux who originated the role of Cowboy in the play, and who would die in 1986 of AIDS. I remember trying to imagine -- as a teenager in the middle of nowhere, in a small town in Ohio -- what it would be like to know the kind of people this play was about, the kind of men who gave a hustler to a friend for a birthday present, the kind of men who had parties like that, and lives and relationships like the ones the review talked about. Gay men. In those days there had not been a lot of people I could ask.
I looked around the room. We had come a long way, I decided.
To be continued.
first let me say...the color coordinates had me laughing even though it is too goddamn strange/serious to laugh about.
the other thing is this. when i was last getting high, if that's what it was called, maybe incomprehensible demoralization is better...regardless, when i was last getting fucked up (there, that's it) a man i worked with suggested aa. he found my first meeting for me, apologized for not being able to go with me and sent me on my stop/start/stop/start way to sobriety.
the point of this is this, he was on broadway in the original cast and then in the movie of 'boys'. he was smart/funny/funny/smart/funny and talented.
we were like little speed freaks together even when we weren't high. speed freaks are like that as you know. we liked each other a lot. i still have a picture of him, a head shot, locked away somewhere at home. he was my eskimo.
dead a long time now.
i miss him.
he would be happy to see how far things has come, even though there is so much more to be done.
funny how things can go from laughter to thoughtful, to sad...all in a minute.
love you.
i'm glad you're in my life.
xxx
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