Dramatization of meeting with William Stanley in Illini Union on December 1st, 1971
The next day, I bought a Coke in the Illini Union Commons and looked around for a familiar face. I saw Winston seated at one of the tables. I went over and sat down cautiously. I could tell by his expression, Winston was not pleased.
"Exposing Neddy Riesman's homosexuality is an entirely different proposition than chaining yourself to the podium," he began. "That is what our enemies do. The Chicago Tribune routinely lists the names and addresses of those swept up in raids on bars and parties. What happens when the Tribune does this? People are fired from their jobs and in some cases commit suicide." Winston smashed his fist on the table, looked disappointed and shook his head.
"The only reason gay people don't want to be exposed," I returned, "is because they are ashamed of their homosexuality. How can we pander to such behavior? If those sniveling cowards will not fight back, then there will continue to be raids and they will continue to lose their jobs. Are we supposed to feel sorry for these poor victims? To hell with that! They reap what they sow."
"Your politics are taking a tragic turn, Mr. Rosen. It is suicide to attack members of our own community. As activists, it is our job to increase the confidence of the community, to empower them by organizing demonstrations. You and I want the same thing, but your methods will destroy the very solidarity necessary to make those gains a reality."
"I must do…what I must do," I said quietly.
Winston remained silent as I sipped my soft drink. A few moments later, an attractive young man approached the table. I had no idea who he was save that I remembered him as one of the boys with Neddy Riesman at the Crystal Room. "Neddy has a message for you," asserted the young man, who placed a folded piece of paper on the table and quickly walked away. I opened the note and read to myself.
If you say anything about Neddy at the city council meeting you will not be alive one minute later!
I read it over and over. It's not as though I hadn't thought about this possibility. Still I felt detached from the situation and thought it was surely a joke that these things only happened in the movies. I handed the note to Winston, whose interest was piqued.
When he read the message, Winston rose and clamped his teeth together, thought a moment and then said sympathetically. "Mr. Rosen, for your own good, get out of this now. You're not helping the movement, you're not helping the drag queens, and you’re in over your head. Get out."
"I'm fucked," I said, then laughed weirdly and said: “Neddy wants me dead-y.” Winston frowned. I remembered that I had left the dorm that morning with my plastic bottle of Valium safely tucked away in the left pocket of my pants. “Handy,” I said to a worried Winston as I grabbed for the pills.
