Dramatization of May, 1972 Gay Liberation March to Champaign City Council
That morning I had a promising meeting with the Assistant State's Attorney Michael Peacock at the Champaign County Building. Peacock said the investigation was complete and ready for the grand jury. I asked him what he had found, but he told me that was confidential for the time being. I noticed he seemed harried, given to jerky motions, and he held some papers in his hand so tightly his fingertips were white. I wondered if the papers would go flying, should he relax at all.
Then, that evening, I joined twenty members of the Gay Liberation Front who had gathered in the Student Union for the march to the Champaign City Council.
We left the building cheering and marched down Green Street. As we marched, I thought of how far the organization had come in the six months since my last visit to the council. Some of the members of Gay Liberation carried signs, a few held high and waving in the night air. Most of the signs, un-mounted, would be unveiled at the council meeting itself.
"Glad you could make it, Reggie," I said to my rarely seen roommate.
"John and I are with you all the way," he responded. "Just because I don't protect your ass in that dorm…" He laughed and didn't finish the sentence. John put his arm around Reggie and smiled.
"They did it again," I commented.
"The assholes?" asked Reggie, as though this identified them.
"That’s right, two nights ago. This time they mixed in orange peels and old tissues with the coffee."
"Sounds appetizing," interjected John Hooper.
"At least, they spared Bill Waveland. He left the day before. I would have been so embarrassed if we were harassed."
"Not exactly a romantic thing to wake up to," added John.
"You're crazy to stay there," repeated Reggie. "Move to Champaign. Urbana's fucked up. Like, whatever happened to the investigation?"
I held up my hand. "Don't be too quick to come to conclusions. It just so happens, I talked to Assistant States Attorney Michel Peacock this morning. He’s ready to tell the grand jury what that Urbana cop did to Winston and me. Peacock was very intense.”
"That’s really impressive," said John. "I, myself, would have chickened out and run from that police station as fast as I could."
"That's because you're not stupid," Reggie said grinning. "You, my brave and handsome man, will live to see another day."
Winston walked up to me as he surveyed the group. "A pretty good-sized crowd, I'd say, although I'm surprised Fenton Puck isn't here."
"Oh," I said, rubbing my hands as I joined Winston in looking over the crowd. "He and Steve are taking a cab. They'll meet us there. Steve can't walk that far, you know."
"Of course," said Winston, slightly embarrassed.
"Do you realize," I continued, "that the last time the two of us walked this street, it was Halloween and we were heading towards the party. Now, we're heading for a mass action at the Champaign City Council. I could not have imagined such a thing six months ago."
"In no small part thanks to your efforts," said Winston. He seemed to enjoy my blushing.
We turned north on Neil Street. A passing car honked and our cheers were so heartfelt as if all of society were honking its approval.
The happy demonstrators arrived at the Champaign City Building, and I, having been there before, led the way into the council. Waiting inside the foyer were Fenton and Steve who were jumping around wildly.
"Did you hear the news?" Steve announced as the lot of us came through the door.
"What news?" I asked.
Steve spoke so that all twenty of us, squeezed into the foyer, could hear. "The Wigwam—they've closed. They're shutting the doors for good!"
A loud cheer went up. The council meeting had not yet started and several people, milling about in the back of the chambers, looked curiously down the steps.
It felt great. Certainly no coincidence that they closed down as Peacock completed his investigation. I imagined Brewster, Hatfield, Dennis the Menace and the Urbana cop all under indictment. "Makes sense," I said. “I found out this morning we are going to the grand jury!” We made such a joyous racket, I’m sure Mayor Kane wondered what awaited him beneath the steps to the chambers.
"Let’s go upstairs," suggested Roger Hamilton, our illustrious president, El Stooge. All twenty of us, in a celebratory mood, climbed the half dozen steps from the foyer, into the council chamber. The ten or fifteen citizens already in attendance watched the hubbub as we took seats in the last two rows. Several councilmen, milling about in the front, also took note. One of them seemed to recognize me and then whispered something to several colleagues.
When it came time for audience participation, I approached the microphone with far more confidence than six months earlier. Having twenty people behind me certainly helped. I pulled note cards from my pocket, but never used them. "I'm Dave Rosen representing the Champaign-Urbana Gay Liberation Front." I stressed the word more for my own benefit, than for the council's, marveling at how much progress the local movement had made in such a short period of time. "Five weeks ago," I began, "the Wigwam, a bar in campus town, began a series of brutal attacks against gay and lesbian patrons. Drinks were spilled on them, ashtrays dumped on their laps, and a handicapped individual was thrown onto the sidewalk, an assault that could have left him a paraplegic." I paused for effect, and hearing no reaction I continued. "During these physical attacks, they made verbal assaults such as 'Faggots are not welcome in this bar' and 'Listen faggot, if you ever come back in this bar again, I'll kill you.’” I paused again, hearing some sniggering in the audience, and then smiled as members of the GLF shouted 'shame' at the offenders. A few yelled 'gay power' as they raised and lowered their placards.
Mayor Eben Kane banged his gavel. "Silence, there will be no disruptions in this meeting. Everybody has their chance to speak." At that, the room quieted.
I continued. "When we picketed to demand an end to this behavior, the owner, Tom Brewster, hired thugs to attack our picket line. One of our members had his finger broken and knee dislocated. And then…." I slowly looked left, then right. "When we had one of these thugs arrested, two of us were arrested instead, arrested under the charge of defamation of character. The Urbana cop who did this said, 'No faggot can bring charges against a real man without defaming his character.'" At that, the Gay Liberation Front members started roaring with loud cries of "shame, shame, shame." The mayor banged his gavel repeatedly, but it took a good minute for the room to quiet.
I arranged my unused note cards. Once silence had been restored, I resumed. "We are asking the City of Champaign to extend the current ordinance protecting civil rights in housing, employment and public accommodations to include protection based on sexual orientation. Thank-you." I broke out in a big smile as I returned to my seat amidst the cheers. I knew that victory would soon be ours.
