HomoQuotable - Sean Patrick Maloney

"I'm tired of relying on straight politicians. No one would say to an African-American, 'Don't run; a white guy knows this stuff better than you.' This is a hostage mentality. We've got the numbers and the resources to push the arc of history towards justice." - Sean Patrick Maloney, openly gay New York State candidate for Attorney General. (via Pride Magazine) Mr. Maloney, I think with that you got my vote. Buh-bye Mark Green.

UPDATE: The Daily News speculates as to Maloney's motives and notes that NYC Council Speaker Christine Quinn, an out lesban, has endorsed Andrew Cuomo.

New Signs Of The End Times

The Four Segways Of The Apocalypse

1. Global warming
2. Bird flu
3. Dial-up
4. Paris Hilton with a Top Ten single*.

*Seriously. The song is a smash across several radio formats.

Faster?

With Aaron's help, I've changed a few things in the left column which should help out those of you that have mentioned this page loading slowly. I'm interested in your feedback about this issue, if you still have a problem with JMG being slow to get it up.

Blah Blah Blahnold

"In politics, I believe we need to address problems rather than attacking people."

"Whether you're gay or straight, everyone needs someone to love."

"California is diverse, but it must never be divided."

-California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger, from last night's soundbite-laden meaningless speech to that state's Log Cabin Republicans. The Governerator never explained his veto last year of California's gay marriage bill, which had passed the state legislature. He also plans to veto the recently passed bill which would require California schools to include important gay persons in history lessons. (via 365gay.com)

Father's Day

Riding home in the cab a couple of weeks ago, after the long, hot, sweaty, beer-drenched marathon called Folsom Street East, I was pondering an odd, uneasy moment of self-realization that had come over me a few hours earlier.

The Folsom Fair fell on Father's Day, and as my friends well know, whenever a young(er/ish) gay man affectionately or flirtatiously calls me "Daddy", I get a bit squicked out because I'm always wondering if the kid is simply using "Daddy" as the in-vogue word for describing a hot older man, which is fine, or if he's using "Daddy" in the all-too-common hope of sparking some sexual role play between us, in which I'm a sexual substitute for his actual biological Daddy. Which is not fine.

And which has happened. More than a few times.

But not lately, because now I've always got my biological "Daddy" radar up at all times. Yeah kid, it sucks that your father molested, rejected, or never loved you, but please please fatherfucking please, do not work out your psychosexual emotional trauma through me. Is everybody with me here?

So here's the contradiction, the "Daddy" epiphany that I had on my way home from the fair: Why is it when young Latin guys call me "Papi", none of that psychobabbly crapola leaps into my mind? Instead, I often get a little bit bump in my heartrate. I don't think I particularly eroticize Latin men over others (well, no more than any of my friends, anyway), although having lived in Florida, California and New York, there have been no shortage of Latin/JMG encounters.

Why is it that being called "Papi" feels hot, yet being called "Daddy" feels.....not?
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The Hostage

In 1966, an aspiring 18 year old singer auditioned to replace Melba Moore in the Broadway musical Hair, but was instead cast in the German road production of the show, later switching to the Austrian version. Years later, during a stint in the Vienna Folk Opera, she met, married, and had a child with Austrian performer Helmut Sommer.

In 1974, Mrs. Sommer met an influential German producer while singing background on a Three Dog Night demo record and he immediately recorded her first single, The Hostage, which went to number one in France, Belgium and The Netherlands. However, due to a typo on the label, the world now knows the singer as Donna Summer. And thanks to the magic of YouTube, here's the video of her first hit record from 32 years ago.



The Hostage is oh-so-corny, with its kidnapped husband theme and the phone calls throughout the record. But the power of Donna Sommer/Summer's voice cannot be denied. Longtime readers of this here website thingy are well aware of my unabiding love for all things Donna Summer and that I consider her 1977 double-vinyl concept album masterpiece Once Upon A Time to be my favorite album of all time. (Note how many 5-star reviews it has on Amazon.) Finding The Hostage video on YouTube this week was a special treat for me, so please indulge me for mentioning Donna yet again.

Open Thread Thursday

Pimp. Bitch. Brag.
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NY State AG Race Looks Interesting

I took this photo of Mark Green in front of Grand Central Terminal last Friday, as he campaigned for New York State Attorney General. On September 11th 2001, I voted for Green for NYC mayor, a race he would have won, had the coverage of the terrorist attacks not totally drowned out his runoff campaign against Michael Bloomberg, who was endorsed by the suddenly popular Rudolph Guiliani. As it turned out, I am very happy with Bloomberg thus far, and voted for his re-election last year.

Also running for Attorney General in 2006 is openly gay Sean Patrick Maloney, about whom I don't know much, other than that he's President Clinton's former staff secretary and that he represents the family of Matthew Shepard in some regard. Eliot Spitzer, our current Attorney General, is the overwhelming favorite to replace George Pataki as governor, and has been endorsed by the Empire State Pride Agenda. Am I a bad citizen to say I want Spitzer to win because he's just so damn hot?

HomoQuotable - Eric Rofes

"Recently I attended a dance party, one of the many evenings of intense music and cavorting available to thousands of gay men in my city each weekend. I looked over the crowd of primarily twenty-something and thirty-something men, shirtless, gyrating, arms reaching to the heavens. I thought immediately at how the doomsayers criticize this population of young gay men, saying things such as, “I didn’t work my ass off during the past 30 years to create a culture of drug use and unprotected sex and self-centered me-me-me attitudes. This is not what the gay movement was all about. This is not what we envisioned when we tried to save lives during the worst of the AIDS years. This is not the world we were trying to create.”

And then I realized something, something surprising and simple. As someone who has spent the last 30 years working on gay liberation and AIDS activism and sexual liberation, what I saw before me was precisely the world I was trying to create. When we fought during the 1980s and 1990s to prevent gay men’s sexual cultures from being destroyed, when we worked to preserve certain values about gender play, friendship, and erotic desire, when we quietly worked behind the scenes to ensure that certain spaces would survive gentrification and public health crackdowns, we were fighting to preserve the ability of new generations of gay men to create worlds of pleasure and desire. As I looked out over the sea of dancing men, I realized, despite all the battles we’ve lost in terms of politics and discourse and the media, gay men and gay sexual cultures had managed to survive and, indeed, thrive." - Eric Rofes (via White Crane Journal)

I Knew When I First Saw Her Too

"I was a missionary of sorts to many a gay man. By then I was already a gay magnet—for some reason they were just drawn to me. And over and over I’d live out the same scenario. Some extremely handsome guy would confess to me that he was all confused about his sexuality, and for some reason he thought I was the one who could turn him—you know, help him figure it all out. Well, I helped him figure it out all right. One night with me, baby, they no longer had any doubts. They knew. They were 100% positive that they were gay. I don’t know exactly what that says about me, but I decided to look on the positive side, knowing that I helped many a gay man come to terms with his homosexuality." - Delta Burke, from her Human Rights Campaign Equality Award acceptance speech. (via Advocate.com)

Trivia: I went to high school with Delta Burke.

Superman Returns

Tonight I saw an advance screening Superman Returns, in IMAX and 3D, thanks to my pals Captain Steve and his husband Brian. There was quite a mob scene outside the AMC Lincoln Center Theatre, tons of adorkable boys in Superman t-shirts, with noticeably fewer girls in the lines.

I'm not so big on superhero movies, but I can recommend Superman Returns just as a fantastic travelogue of Manhattan, with many gorgeously slow fly-overs. Otherwise, the movie was long (2.5 hours), the new Superman is hot, and the familiar John Williams Superman theme sounds fantastic. I just can't believe they killed off Lois Lane.

Eric Rofes Dies Unexpectedly

Author and gay activist Eric Rofes died of unknown causes in Provincetown yesterday. Rofes was perhaps best known for his controversial declaration that "AIDS is over", in his 1998 book Dry Bones Breathe. Rofes pioneered many gay activist groups, including founding the Boston Area Gay & Lesbian Schoolworkers and the Boston Gay & Lesbian Political Alliance. In the 80's he was the Executive Director of the Los Angeles Gay & Lesbian Community Center and in the early 90's he was the Executive Director of San Francisco's Shanti Project, which provided housing to people with AIDS. Rofes' 13th book, A Radical Rethinking Of Sexuality And Schooling, was published late last year. I used to see Eric around San Francisco, usually in the leather bars. Memorably, he once spotted me on the MUNI reading his Reviving The Tribe, which I adored. Eric Rofes was a controversial figure, to be sure, comparable perhaps to Larry Kramer in the way in which he constantly challenged gay men's preconceptions of our lives. Rofes was 52.

UPDATE: PageOneQ is reporting that Rofes had a heart attack.

Anniversary

It was June 27th, 1969.

The day that the fags, dykes, and queens of New York City finally said "Enough!" For some historical perspective, I'm posting the story that the New York Daily News ran about the Stonewall Riots. Note how the story drips with condescension and ridicule. We've come a long, long way in 37 years and we've still got some distance to cover, but today we should all offer up a shout, a snap, and a silent prayer of thanks to the people who started us down this road.

HOMO NEST RAIDED - QUEEN BEES ARE STINGING MAD

-by Jerry Lisker, New York Daily News, July 6th 1969

She sat there with her legs crossed, the lashes of her mascara-coated eyes beating like the wings of a hummingbird. She was angry. She was so upset she hadn't bothered to shave. A day old stubble was beginning to push through the pancake makeup. She was a he. A queen of Christopher Street.

Last weekend the queens had turned commandos and stood bra strap to bra strap against an invasion of the helmeted Tactical Patrol Force. The elite police squad had shut down one of their private gay clubs, the Stonewall Inn at 57 Christopher St., in the heart of a three-block homosexual community in Greenwich Village. Queen Power reared its bleached blonde head in revolt. New York City experienced its first homosexual riot. "We may have lost the battle, sweets, but the war is far from over," lisped an unofficial lady-in-waiting from the court of the Queens.

"We've had all we can take from the Gestapo," the spokesman, or spokeswoman, continued. "We're putting our foot down once and for all." The foot wore a spiked heel. According to reports, the Stonewall Inn, a two-story structure with a sand painted brick and opaque glass facade, was a mecca for the homosexual element in the village who wanted nothing but a private little place where they could congregate, drink, dance and do whatever little girls do when they get together.

The thick glass shut out the outside world of the street. Inside, the Stonewall bathed in wild, bright psychedelic lights, while the patrons writhed to the sounds of a juke box on a square dance floor surrounded by booths and tables. The bar did a good business and the waiters, or waitresses, were always kept busy, as they snaked their way around the dancing customers to the booths and tables. For nearly two years, peace and tranquility reigned supreme for the Alice in Wonderland clientele.

The Raid Last Friday

Last Friday the privacy of the Stonewall was invaded by police from the First Division. It was a raid. They had a warrant. After two years, police said they had been informed that liquor was being served on the premises. Since the Stonewall was without a license, the place was being closed. It was the law.

All hell broke loose when the police entered the Stonewall. The girls instinctively reached for each other. Others stood frozen, locked in an embrace of fear.

Only a handful of police were on hand for the initial landing in the homosexual beachhead. They ushered the patrons out onto Christopher Street, just off Sheridan Square. A crowd had formed in front of the Stonewall and the customers were greeted with cheers of encouragement from the gallery.

The whole proceeding took on the aura of a homosexual Academy Awards Night. The Queens pranced out to the street blowing kisses and waving to the crowd. A beauty of a specimen named Stella wailed uncontrollably while being led to the sidewalk in front of the Stonewall by a cop. She later confessed that she didn't protest the manhandling by the officer, it was just that her hair was in curlers and she was afraid her new beau might be in the crowd and spot her. She didn't want him to see her this way, she wept.

Queen Power

The crowd began to get out of hand, eye witnesses said. Then, without warning, Queen Power exploded with all the fury of a gay atomic bomb. Queens, princesses and ladies-in-waiting began hurling anything they could get their polished, manicured fingernails on. Bobby pins, compacts, curlers, lipstick tubes and other femme fatale missiles were flying in the direction of the cops. The war was on. The lilies of the valley had become carnivorous jungle plants.

Urged on by cries of "C'mon girls, lets go get'em," the defenders of Stonewall launched an attack. The cops called for assistance. To the rescue came the Tactical Patrol Force.

Flushed with the excitement of battle, a fellow called Gloria pranced around like Wonder Woman, while several Florence Nightingales administered first aid to the fallen warriors. There were some assorted scratches and bruises, but nothing serious was suffered by the honeys turned Madwoman of Chaillot.

Official reports listed four injured policemen with 13 arrests. The War of the Roses lasted about 2 hours from about midnight to 2 a.m. There was a return bout Wednesday night.

Two veterans recently recalled the battle and issued a warning to the cops. "If they close up all the gay joints in this area, there is going to be all out war."

Bruce and Nan

Both said they were refugees from Indiana and had come to New York where they could live together happily ever after. They were in their early 20's. They preferred to be called by their married names, Bruce and Nan.

"I don't like your paper," Nan lisped matter-of-factly. "It's anti-fag and pro-cop."

"I'll bet you didn't see what they did to the Stonewall. Did the pigs tell you that they smashed everything in sight? Did you ask them why they stole money out of the cash register and then smashed it with a sledge hammer? Did you ask them why it took them two years to discover that the Stonewall didn't have a liquor license."

Bruce nodded in agreement and reached over for Nan's trembling hands.

"Calm down, doll," he said. "Your face is getting all flushed."

Nan wiped her face with a tissue.

"This would have to happen right before the wedding. The reception was going to be held at the Stonewall, too," Nan said, tossing her ashen-tinted hair over her shoulder.

"What wedding?," the bystander asked.

Nan frowned with a how-could-anybody-be-so-stupid look. "Eric and Jack's wedding, of course. They're finally tying the knot. I thought they'd never get together."

Meet Shirley

"We'll have to find another place, that's all there is to it," Bruce sighed. "But every time we start a place, the cops break it up sooner or later."

"They let us operate just as long as the payoff is regular," Nan said bitterly. "I believe they closed up the Stonewall because there was some trouble with the payoff to the cops. I think that's the real reason. It's a shame. It was such a lovely place. We never bothered anybody. Why couldn't they leave us alone?"

Shirley Evans, a neighbor with two children, agrees that the Stonewall was not a rowdy place and the persons who frequented the club were never troublesome. She lives at 45 Christopher St.

"Up until the night of the police raid there was never any trouble there," she said. "The homosexuals minded their own business and never bothered a soul. There were never any fights or hollering, or anything like that. They just wanted to be left alone. I don't know what they did inside, but that's their business. I was never in there myself. It was just awful when the police came. It was like a swarm of hornets attacking a bunch of butterflies."

A reporter visited the now closed Stonewall and it indeed looked like a cyclone had struck the premises.

Police said there were over 200 people in the Stonewall when they entered with a warrant. The crowd outside was estimated at 500 to 1,000. According to police, the Stonewall had been under observation for some time. Being a private club, plain clothesmen were refused entrance to the inside when they periodically tried to check the place. "They had the tightest security in the Village," a First Division officer said, "We could never get near the place without a warrant."

Police Talk

The men of the First Division were unable to find any humor in the situation, despite the comical overtones of the raid.

"They were throwing more than lace hankies," one inspector said. "I was almost decapitated by a slab of thick glass. It was thrown like a discus and just missed my throat by inches. The beer can didn't miss, though, "it hit me right above the temple."

Police also believe the club was operated by Mafia connected owners. The police did confiscate the Stonewall's cash register as proceeds from an illegal operation. The receipts were counted and are on file at the division headquarters. The warrant was served and the establishment closed on the grounds it was an illegal membership club with no license, and no license to serve liquor.

The police are sure of one thing. They haven't heard the last from the Girls of Christopher Street.

They sure fucking haven't.

Pride 2006: Cool, Wet, Wonderful

It was, in a word, glorious. This, despite that Pride Sunday dawned to blackened skies. I was awakened not by the sound of real thunder, but by the fake computer thunder that the Weather Bug on my laptop makes to alert me that a thunderstorm is imminent. But the threat of a little rain didn't stop 500,000 of my closest friends from attending the 37th annual NYC Pride Parade. In fact, with the temperature a delicious 73 degrees and the overcast skies, I don't think you could have asked Mommie Nature for a more comfortable setting.

The highlight of the parade was the triumphant return of Kevin Aviance, who rode upon a giant paper-mache' elephant, on the HX Magazine float. (pic via CNN.com) And of course, policitians dare not risk shunning Pride, rain or no rain. Seen in the parade were Mayor Michael Bloomberg, City Council Speaker (and out lesbian) Christine Quinn, New York Senators Chuck Schumer and Hillary 2008 Clinton, and candidates running for Attorney General in 2006, including Mark Green, Andrew Cuomo, Jeanine Pirro (who marched with the Ugh Cabin Republicans), openly gay AG candidate Sean Patrick Maloney, and Eliot Spitzer, whom the Empire State Pride Agenda has endorsed in the governor's race.

The 20th Annual Pier Dance was its usual maddening/joyous science project of traffic barricades, armies of volunteers, and bemused police officers. You have to hand it to Heritage Of Pride for managing the logistics of safely moving thousands and thousands of partiers from the ticketing area across the humming West Side Highway to the pier. And special thanks go out to the legions of volunteers for making the event possible at all. DJ Susan Morabito delivered a crowd pleasing mix of current hits and disco classics, including her signature record, Pet Shop Boys' Left To My Own Devices. Old fogies like me also recognized Amant's piano and string-laden If There's Love (Marlin Records 1978, free download), Kat Mandu's anthemic cowbell roof-raiser The Break (TK Records, 1979, free download), and Carl Bean's groundbreaking gay pride classic, I Was Born This Way (Motown Records, 1977, free download).

At 10pm, one of my favorite orchestral disco classics, the Salsoul Orchestra's 1979 hit Magic Bird Of Fire (which I blogged about here) heralded the arrival of the entertainment. Or not, as the stage remained dark and the record played a second time. Finally, as had been rumored, Jennifer Lopez took the stage at about 10pm, declaring, "Yes, it's really me! Last time I checked I was not an impersonator!", before launching into Jenny From The Block, Waiting For Tonight, and My Love Don't Cost A Thing. I'll admit that although I'm not a J.Lo fan, (despite watching Selena anytime it's on cable), I thought she sounded great.

The day closed with with some of my dearest friends gathered around me at the far end of the pier. Behind us, the Empire State Building stretched through the mist, bathed in lavender lights in honor of the day. To the accompaniment of John Paul Young's Love Is In The Air, (Ariola Records 1977, free download) the fireworks began and we turned to face the Hudson, arms around each other, our faces illuminated by the rockets in the sky and the love we have for each other. Two young boys near us broke into a joyously unrestrained swing dance and I leaned over to the Farmboyz and said, "They are going to remember this moment for the rest of their lives." I know I will.

And I don't know if you're an illusion
Don't know if I see it true
But you're something that I must believe in
And you're there when I reach out for you
- Love Is In The Air
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Morning View