Dramatization of Election Night

"I'm here for the victory party," I announced, entering Winston’s apartment, holding the champagne bottles high.

"I'll be shocked if you get half a percent," said Bobby Henderson cynically.

"As long as I beat Barber, I'll be happy."

"I wouldn't hold my breath," said Winston. "Barber has access to all the churches in Urbana. Those ministers, no doubt, told their congregations to vote for the Reverend Orville Barber against the evil homosexual, Dave Rosen. I wouldn't be surprised if he got fifteen percent of the vote against maybe a half a percent for you. Remember, you’re a gay revolutionary socialist. We don't count on any votes. It's just a platform to express our point of view."

"That can't happen," I said. "I worked too hard to get half a percent. No way is Barber going to get thirty times more votes than me. If that happened, we failed to get our message out. The whole campaign would be a failure."

The front buzzer rang and Winston opened it for Reggie Flanders and John Hooper. "How's the next mayor of Urbana?" said John, also holding a bottle of champagne.

"Trying to adjust to the impending shock of defeat," I joked.

"No way you thought you’d win," said Reggie. "Boy, you would be crazy then."

"Not win, just beat Barber. That was my goal when I trudged from house to house campaigning. It kept me going. 'Beat Barber, you must beat Barber,' I'd tell myself."

"Well you got one vote," said John. "At my polling place, some tall guy with a red beard, he looked like a professor, came out and said, 'I never voted for a Trotskyist before and I never voted for an open homosexual before, until just now'."

“That could be me,” I said dead-panned, “although with all the homosexual Trotskyists running, it’s hard to say for sure.” Winston, John and Reggie all laughed and that cheered me a bit. I think it was the prospect of emptiness in the days ahead, more so than a trouncing in the election that caused me so much apprehension. I wolfed down a Big Mac and that helped, too.

Reggie and John arrived just as the election special began on the local CBS affiliate. Winston brought out a bowl of cheese-filled crackers. "We have beer and champagne. Who wants what?"

"Don't open the champagne yet," I cautioned.

"Um, hmm, he still thinks he's going to win," said Reggie half-seriously.

"I'm afraid that there will be no better time than now to celebrate," replied Winston.

"Fine, ruin my moment of glory," I said with a mock pout, having already accepted the inevitable, but wishing the others weren't so blunt.

We watched the small black and white television as returns started to come in. In the first ward to report from southeast Urbana, Singer received 278 votes, Doughty 250, Barber 135 with 2 votes for Dave Rosen.

"Yeah, two votes," shouted Winston. "Let's toast them." He went for the champagne and everyone lifted their glasses to me.

But my mending spirits had evaporated with the slaughter. "Shit," I cried. "This is a disaster, a total disaster." I looked at the others with their champagne glasses raised. "Stop trying to cheer me up. This is very serious. It was all a waste of time. Barber got forty times as many votes as I did." I reached into my pocket for the Ritalin and swallowed two, not bothering to suck them, as usual, since the long night meant there was no sense in rushing the stuff into my bloodstream.

"You never campaigned in south-east Urbana," admonished Winston. "Two votes for a revolutionary socialist in a conservative area is exceptional."

"You got two more votes than I would have predicted," added Bobby.

"Our goal is to smash the state," yelled Seth. "Not to get votes in a bourgeois election."

"OK," I said, reluctantly, "get me a glass of champagne. We'll toast my two votes."

"That's the spirit," said Reggie.

A small ward in north Urbana came in and we were all stunned. Singer received 38 votes. Barber received 7 votes, Rosen 6 votes and Doughty 5.

"Far out," I shouted—my encounter with the junkyard dogs having paid off. "I beat the Republican in the black community. I got over ten percent of the vote."

"Holy shit," said John. "I'm impressed."

"Suddenly life seems a little brighter," Reggie commented.

"A lot brighter," I replied, retrieving the champagne bottle and holding it up. "A toast anybody?" They held up their glasses.

"A toast to Mr. Pinball," said Reggie. "The fool changes moods every few seconds."

"Like a leaf blowing in the wind," added John.

"Very funny," I said. "A toast to gay liberation."

"Here, here," said Winston and everyone drank. Winston lit a cigarette and began to pace. "Dave, I consider the results in North Urbana to be very positive, indeed."

"Dave sold out," said Bobby. "Revolutionary socialists do not beat Republicans, anywhere, unless they are sellouts."

I rolled my eyes. Sometimes it seemed that Bobby could not think outside the book. If he never read it, it wasn’t true. John Hooper scolded him. "Stop being such a spoilsport," he said.

Bobby went into the bedroom and closed the door.

"He was against the campaign from the start," said Seth. "He doesn't have any use for electoral politics. With you getting over ten percent of the vote in the black community, he's afraid we’ll become corrupted." Ten percent equaled six votes, not exactly something to write home about. Still, I felt good again and poor Ethel only got five votes. As they say today, it’s all about spin.

"It appears from the results, so far," began Winston, "that the Democrats are going to take control of Urbana from the Republicans. Thanks to Mr. Rosen, every single Democratic candidate has come out in favor of the gay rights bill. It seems to me that the optimal political course would be to shift our focus from Champaign to Urbana. Let's hold them to their word."

I agreed. "If the new council in Champaign defeats the bill again, we get the bill passed in Urbana and then return to Champaign with even more ammunition."

"Exactly," said Winston. "Although, I wouldn't take the Bills passage in Urbana for granted. The Democrats will start backtracking the moment they get elected."

At the end of the night, with all wards reporting, the final tally was Democrat Singer 48%, Republican Doughty 39%, Reverend Barber 11% and 1.4% for me.

"One out of every seventy people in Urbana voted for a revolutionary socialist," proclaimed Winston. "That's amazing." He poured more champagne and everyone was pleased, except Bobby, who remained in the bedroom, and me. I had once again fallen into a depression.

"Barber got eight times as many votes as me," I brooded. "I only went door to door in maybe ten percent of the city. If I hit every house, if I didn't have to spend every day driving the fucking cab, I could have beaten Barber."

"The other three spent thousands of dollars on the campaign," said Winston. "Singer and Doughty advertised on radio and television and Barber had signs in front of half the churches and a bunch of yards all over the city. All you had was one mimeographed flyer to hand out. You've got to stop beating yourself up for such a fantastic showing. It was so good Henderson won't come out of the bedroom. Chicago is going to be very pleased."

At the mention of the regional headquarters of the YSA in Chicago, I perked up. "Do you really think they will be impressed?"

"Percentage-wise, you did far, far better than anything seen in the '72 election. Of course, that was national, this was local. Still the number is impressive. I'm certain you got more votes per campaign dollar spent than Singer, Doughty or Barber."

"Here, here," announced John, "another toast for Dave Rosen."

It seemed a perfect time to bring up my new plan, one certain to keep the demons at bay. "I'm wondering if Chicago will be impressed enough to…to…" I couldn't get the words out and I’m certain my face expressed ambivalence.

"Uh oh," chimed in Reggie. "He's up to something."

"What exactly are you proposing?" asked Winston.

"Well, the Party and YSA have done some impressive work mobilizing large numbers of people for anti-war demonstrations in Washington, D.C. With the war winding down, I've been thinking that what we really need is a gay march on Washington. Tens of thousands of gay people on the Mall would change the world."