Dramatization of Reid Smith and the Gay Illini

On Wednesday, March 10th, a young man, who introduced himself as Simon Sawyer, showed up in the City Hall foyer. "So I finally meet the great Dave Rosen," he said, glancing at the bed, the food bags and, the newspapers accumulating in my makeshift home.

I smiled. Simon had the boy-next-door look, with reddish blond hair and I found him attractive. "Are you from the campus?" I asked.

"I'm a member of the Gay Illini."

“So there’s finally another gay group on campus,” I said. “Gay Illini is probably a more appropriate name than Gay Liberation Front.” Simon laughed. “Especially nowadays,” I added. “Strange though, you’re the first out gay person from Champaign-Urbana that’s dropped by. I figured the gay community decided to ignore me."

"I'd say that's pretty accurate," agreed Simon.

"What are people saying?"

Simon shook his head. "Last night Mayor Bill Young of Champaign spoke to the Gay Illini. I’ve never been so disgusted in my life."

I shook my head. "I’ve learned to expect the worst on gay issues from politicians in either party. As a councilman, Young twice voted against the gay rights bill."

"Young was not the reason I was disgusted. He told us that he thought the time for gay rights had come and, as mayor, he was ready to cast the deciding vote in favor of the ordinance. But the other members of the Gay Illini; I couldn't believe it. There was nothing but a degrading chorus of apologetic crap. 'We don't approve of what Dave Rosen is doing.' 'He doesn't represent us.' 'We find his actions reprehensible.' 'He gives us all a bad name.' 'Don't judge us by his actions.'"

“Fuck. I hear that crap over and over and over again about gays who choose to fight back. Not surprising at all.”

"Young looked at them like they were crazy,” continued Simon, “and I was embarrassed to even be associated with those people. Young said, 'What are you guys talking about? Dave Rosen was fighting for gay rights in Champaign and Urbana while you were in high school. He was the one predominantly responsible for the passage of the gay rights bill in Urbana and hopefully one very soon in Champaign.’"

Simon’s words made my eyes water. Those past two years I had felt like such a failure and it stunned me to hear the words of the new Mayor of Champaign. Not wanting to embarrass myself in front of Simon, got a Kleenex from the foot of the mattress, blew my nose, and blotted my eyes.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

After a moment of silence, I smiled. "So what did they say, after Young said that?"

"Nothing,” replied Simon. “Your name never came up again. They were too busy fawning over Young, thanking him for being brave enough to speak with them. I think he was as embarrassed by their behavior as I was."

"Young has a history in the labor movement," I commented. "Can you imagine workers going out on strike and apologizing to the bosses for their own existence? When I was here, we were so militant, marching in and out of council meetings, chanting, sitting-in, demanding our rights. “We have the same problem in Chicago—gays who fawn over politicians that go so far as to talk with them, let alone quietly introduce some bill that will never get passed."

"Who’s this 'we' you speak of?"

"My group, the Gay Rights Action Coalition; there are about four or five of us, although Ellen, one of our members, told me that some others were thinking about joining. She and her girlfriend, Samantha, sat-in at the marriage license bureau in October. Actually, the three of us have a group within the group, the Gay Workers Party, based on a theory…” Simon looked at me strangely. “…which I won’t get into. The actual organization, the Gay Rights Action Coalition, simply believes in fighting for gay rights. The marriage action in conjunction with my protest down here is generating interest in the group. On Saturday, when GRAC comes down to picket, Ellen and Samantha are bringing two new members."

"I really respect what you’re doing," said Simon. "I'm glad that something positive is coming from it."

"Hopefully, there will be more positives yet to come."

"I actually dropped out of school after the fall semester," said Simon; "just hanging around trying to figure out where to go. My friend Martha and I…I'm George, she's Martha…"

"I thought you said your name was Simon?"

"My real name. But we play George and Martha, as in 'Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf'. We carry on in public just like them, at parties. It's a real kick." I nodded, although I was only vaguely aware of the play. "Anyway, Martha went down to New Orleans and I was thinking about following. But after hearing those bastards last night, I thought maybe I should get involved politically, instead. Join up with you people."

“I'm the only guy in the organization. It’s good to hear that some other guy wants to join."

"Hey. I'm not just some other guy." We both laughed.

Simon stumbled for words. "Want to go to dinner with me tonight?"

"Thanks, but I’d better not. If I leave my post for more than a few minutes, I'm afraid they'll lock me out. I've gotten spoiled being away from the cold."

He looked disappointed. "Yeah, OK."

"Wait a minute. Everything here is dead on Sunday night and I can probably stay away for a few hours without anybody noticing." Simon looked pleased, but I felt like a traitor for inferring that I might abandon my post, and then had an idea. “We can make this legitimate. I’ll call this a shower break. Before dinner, I’ll take a shower at your place.”

“Great,” said Simon. “Sounds like a plan.”

“In fact,” I added, “I’m starting to smell so bad I don't know how you can even stand sitting here."