Dramatization of the events of October 31st, 1973

Drag and more generally disguise makes Halloween a special holiday in the gay world. Not for me. Halloween, 1973, if not as cursed as the night of all sorrows two years earlier when the drag arrests at Marty Monroe’s party spun my life out of control, came in a close second.

It wasn’t all bad. In fact, the day began with some good news—an endorsement for the march on Washington conference arrived in the mail from the famous beat poet, Allan Ginsburg. The note went on to say that although he could not attend the conference, Allan promised to chant and send out “good vibes.”

I could have used some of those good vibes when next I read the latest issue of the national gay magazine, The Advocate. It was the one with my interview. The story was headlined 'Washington Gays not happy about 'mass march' plans.' Stunned, I reread the headline several times before daring to peruse the article itself.

Finally, I read the story. Washington organizations would send one representative with the message “Don’t come!” The article went on to say how any less than 50,000 marchers would be a political disaster and how Washington gays felt rights issues were state and local issues, not national. Since the demands could only be addressed by state legislators, a Washington march was not practical.

One bright spot was how I had anticipated some of their objections and returned with what I felt were good arguments

In reply, Rosen said one of the goals of the proposed march is to gain "solidarity" for the gay movement in the country, which Rosen said is now "isolated" and fragmented … Further he said the march would give the gay movement a boost by "bringing the issue to the attention of the mass media".

"By raising the national consciousness," he said, "a large national demonstration could affect state legislation far more than demonstrations at the state level."

But then the article took a turn for the worse. Frank Kameny, a Washington gay activist before Stonewall, the man who coined the term “Gay is good” and often called the father of gay liberation had written us a letter promising to support the conference any way he could. Strictly speaking, it was not an endorsement, but I called it that in the Advocate interview and those semantics were being used to cast further aspersions on both my character and the conference. It was very depressing.

I needed to talk with Winston, but nobody ever answered the phone at his parents’ house and today was no exception. I suspected the wrong number. Directory assistance had their number as unlisted. It meant seeking out Seth.

It was a quarter after five, 6:15 New York time, and Zach would be home from work. I phoned with The Advocate article laid out before me.

“I figured you would call tonight,” he said, after a perfunctory greeting.

“I guess you read the article in the Advocate. It’s bad, really bad.”

“You mentioned to the reporter that members of the YSA and SWP were building the march,” said Zach, uncharacteristically angry.

I brushed past that part of the story. To me it was just an infrastructure issue, although I was beginning to realize that others, pro or con, saw it as something akin to the end of time. “True, but that was hardly the worst of it,” I replied.

“Oh, yes it was. The article, itself, wasn’t bad for a reformist publication.”

“I disagree. There was no red-baiting. But they did attack our organizing…”

“Listen, Dave. That article tipped off the NEC. Suddenly it has gotten real ugly.”

“Tip them off? The National Executive Committee has been aware of what we’ve been doing for some time.”

“Yes, but they could plead ignorance. Now they can no longer ignore what’s going on. Last night the gay comrades were issued a directive: no comrade can build or even attend the conference in Champaign."

"What?" I was incredulous. "They can't do that."

"Oh yes they can. You probably don’t know this. I only found out a few days ago, but the Party passed a secret memorandum at their convention in August calling the Gay Liberation movement peripheral. They want to pull comrades out of the movement.”

“That’s full of shit,” I shouted, feeling helpless, a man alone.

“My position in the Gay Activist Alliance is very tenuous,” continued Zach. “In fact, they threatened to pull me and the other gay comrades out of GAA, if they even suspect we are working with you. I could be in trouble for just talking with you on the phone."

"Zach, we have to resign. The initial reason for me joining this organization is gone. They’re nothing but anti-gay bastards."

"Don't be too hasty," he replied. "How can we ever build a militant mass march without a national organization like the Socialist Workers Party to provide the infrastructure? Annie, the head of my local, said that perhaps in a year or two we could revisit the issue. Apparently, this memorandum is vague."

"We don't need the SWP to build a nationwide network. The National Gay Mobilizing Committee can stand on its own. I have well over a hundred endorsements from forty four states. We are the first and only national gay umbrella organization."

"I guess you didn't read the New York Times the other day," said Zach.

"No. What did it say?"

"Have you ever heard of Howard Brown?"

"Yeah, I read about him a few weeks ago. He’s the New York City health commissioner who came out of the closet. That was in the Chicago papers, too."

"And remember Bruce Voeller, the guy you fought with over the march at the GAA meeting?"

"Yes. What about him?"

"Bruce quit GAA and joined up with Howard Brown. They formed a new umbrella organization called the National Gay Task Force. At their first meeting, they came out against the conference and the march."

"I can't believe it…Shit…I’m dying here in the middle of the prairie." Zach said nothing. "Well you're going to come, aren't you?"

"I better not. I would hate to risk my position in GAA. I've been elected secretary."

"Who’s coming from New York? Is anybody?"

"No one that I know of is coming. The Democrats think you’re a dupe of the SWP and the SWP has disowned you."

I was at a loss for words. The reality of Zach’s message was sinking in. "Dave, are you there?" Zach repeated several times.

"Allan Ginsburg endorsed the conference," I said for lack of anything better.

Zach said "Oh" and I said goodbye, hung up and raced out of the office.