A recent letter writer seems to think a Wal-Mart or a Target or a McDonald's on every corner would do wonders for the image and popularity of the Castro. Right – bulldoze the houses for parking lots to make room for the big box stores and make sure the Castro as a living community becomes a minor footnote in the history of the city.
But it's Michael Sweeney's comments about Harvey Milk that reflect a staggering ignorance, especially for one who was 14 when the Castro was lucky enough to have Harvey settle here. From the very start, Harvey was politically aware that gays, while comprising a sizable fraction of the city's population, were political eunuchs. There were "friends of the gay community" who trolled for gay votes but were quick to abandon the community when the going got rough. It was Harvey's opinion that the gay community should have somebody who was openly gay to represent it – abandoning the community would then be politically impossible.
Harvey ran for public office repeatedly, pushed registration by gays, rolled up a larger number of votes each time, and was finally elected as supervisor. Each attempt garnered more publicity and his election as the first openly gay man elected to a major public office sent shock waves across the country. For many gays in other cities, it was a signal that hey – it could happen there as well! Harvey had become a touchstone.
As most of your readers know – excepting, possibly, Mr. Sweeney – there was a backlash against gays that followed. Anita Bryant, a mediocre pop singer who was a spokeswoman for the orange juice growers in Florida, spearheaded an anti-gay initiative in Florida, which won. Bryant plumped for prison sentences of 20 years "if convicted of a single homosexual act." And there were rumors of one overeager state legislator that wanted to fine acts of masturbation; it didn't get very far in the male-dominated legislature.
In California, Republican (you guessed it) state Senator John Briggs introduced a bill banning gays from teaching in California's public schools. Even associating with known gays would put teachers under a cloud.
Harvey campaigned vigorously against it, giving speeches in Orange County despite death threats from midnight callers citing what the – anonymous, of course – caller would like to do to him. The initiative was defeated and the anti-gay tide in America slowly turned. Gay Pride parades grew steadily larger in San Francisco. In 1977, a quarter of a million spectators lined Market Street for the parade. None of the city's "liberal" politicians – those who prided themselves on being "friends of the gay community" – showed up. In 1978, half the city – 350,000 – showed up for the festivities. For politicians who could count, it became obvious that gays held veto power over any anti-gay legislation that might be introduced in the city. Harvey's voter registration drive had paid off.
For his efforts on behalf of the community, his success in combating Prop. 6, and his efforts to insure a liberal majority on the Board of Supervisors, Harvey received a bullet in the arm, one in the wrist, and another in the chest from a disgruntled fellow supervisor, Dan White. When he was on the floor, White administered a coup de grace – two bullets in the head, at close range. It was closed casket ceremonies for both Harvey and Mayor George Moscone, who White had also shot twice in the body and twice in the head, just to make sure.
(If memory serves, White got seven years and served five. Once released, he administered his own justice by taking the pipe in the family garage.)
Some 40,000 people marched to City Hall that night in memory of Harvey and Mayor Moscone. Not all of them were gay but I guarantee you, all of them were crying.
Harvey's legacy extended beyond his death. During the AIDS epidemic, when there were no funds available from the federal or state governments to combat one of the worst medical emergencies to hit the United States in its history (the flu epidemic of 1918 may have logged more casualties), the community was dependent largely on city funds and the activities of organizaitons that had grown up during Harvey's political reign.
Mr. Sweeney seems to think he deserves a gold medal for having been born in San Francisco and waxes nostalgic over Polk Street –a neighborhood with many fine restaurants, well-known bars, and also the biggest meat rack in the city for shy, older gays and ambitious young hustlers. I mean no disrespect for our randy elders and those younger men who out of necessity or desire sold themselves. But Polk Street was always the center for sexual activities, seldom any political ones.
Googling the definition of "dweeb" I note its meaning is "a person regarded as socially inept or foolish, often on account of being overly ambitious." Or, more simply, "an unattractive, insignificant, or inept person."
That hardly defines Harvey Milk, of course.
Those interested in the history of the Castro as well as that of Harvey Milk, should purchase Out in the Castro at A Different Light (for half price, fellas!). A remarkable, informative book, much needed and, unfortunately, much under-reviewed. I confess I wrote one of the articles but the other essays and – perhaps especially – the photographs are well worth the price.
Frank M. Robinson is the co-author of The Glass Inferno and helped with speech writing for Harvey Milk.