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DIARY 2544


1. There's so much animosity between the OLD guard (Bob Milne, Marc Williams, Henry Messer) and the NEW guard (Alan Henderson, Dick Smith, others from the street or GAA) that people OUTSIDE must be able to pick it up.

2. Dick Leitsch obviously did some terrible things to Mattachine in the past.

3. There aren't enough MEMBERS (and this is an unsolved problem: everyone ADMITS GAA offers more, Mattachine has a terrible image of being conservative, but no one wants to WORK to have discussion groups, parties, or dances).

4. There isn't enough MONEY (though John had a brilliant idea to settle this: members who DON'T sign up for a committee can still belong by giving a HIGHER membership fee, and they can support Mattachine with BUCKS, not backs).

5. There would be a great place in Mattachine for special discussion groups (Arno even said he MIGHT be interested in devoting time to the organization), particularly the one advocated by the 52-year-old who said "There must be more to old age than collecting Chinese antiques," and would like to hear from MORE old people about how THEY handle their problems.

6. Everyone in the organization thinks THEY have the solution, including me, and no one's grown up enough yet to figure a way of DISCUSSING everything to some sort of CLIMAX before being distracted by some NEW scent.

7. They're too soft hearted: even though they SAID they'd collect for the coffee they served, they didn't, and Messer might NOT be contributing to the organization by contributing $500 from his OWN pocket rather than letting the REAL crisis come to a head, and THREATEN to actually go out of business.

8. The Mattachine Times is a boring paper, put out by the board of advisors, and I was tempted to help out to enliven it, and John remained noncommittal, refusing to say whether he'd definitely help me in editing it or not.

9. Certainly GAA and Mattachine would not happily MERGE, but some sort of FEDERATION (you furnish the bodies and enthusiasm, we'll furnish the reputation, the contacts, and the knowledge) would benefit THE GAY COMMUNITY.

10. Also certainly, a physical plant could be shared, and NEW things such as Gay Switchboard should come INTO the group, not causing NEW splinters.


DIARY 2549


The best thing I can think to say afterwards is that they didn't LOOK like a group of physical education teachers. They probed my "not thinking of it as a problem" despite the fact that I had to hide my proclivities from everyone in Ohio. Rita afterward questioned whether it wasn't about homosexuality that I was concerned when I took LSD, rather than my stated concern about being unable to love ANYONE. They kept wanting me to answer SPECIFIC questions about the child who's teased by being called "a fag" (though the teacher said that the TEACHER was far more likely to call a student a fag than other students were), and I kept insisting they should treat it like they treat any OTHER scapegoat in the class, whether he stutters, is of a different color or religion, or has some physical disfiguration: it's up to THEM to decide how to solve these problems in THIS way, though I could add that they should TALK about homosexuality as a matter of INFORMATION, though the teacher didn't bring up the matter that "she felt they HAD to be referred to counselors," which is tantamount to saying "I feel they SHOULD be CURED." I kept getting hung up in what the world SHOULD be and in what the world IS. When I said that twins generally ended up gay, someone asked about siblings, and the teacher afterwards asked Rita whom she had sex with, and Rita replied with candor, "No one." And then answered me that she was man-oriented. Rather to my relief, one in a family is enough of a problem to a concerned mother: hopefully RITA will have children and take the onus off MY back (or cock). One fellow stayed afterward to talk about his accepting and being accepted by gay friends of friends, finding them pleasant to be with, even to their parties. Um. I took the chance of asking THEM a question, and only about 1/3 the class raised their hands when I asked "Hope many of you HAVE talked with admitted homosexuals, and gotten some conversations going with them about it?" There was a lot of side talking when the teacher asked a question, and she said at the end "They were much quieter for you than they normally are," and the questions were nicely distributed, and there was only marginal hostility from a few of them.


DIARY 2556


The phone started ringing immediately I opened the door at 7:30, and some few said they had been ringing all day. Many calls wanting the services that a simple purchase of a current Guild Guide could have supplied, but there were a number that threw me for a loop: for Patane, the blind fellow from Westchester that I had to refer to Alan Henderson, and later found that he bothered everyone until they got wise to him; the fellow who wanted the name of a modeling agency he could work out of to get some extra bread; a number of requests for "private clubs" which I didn't know anything about; two or three others from Upper New York State who wanted names of places near them, and all I could do was read all the city names and hope that some were near them, which they seldom were. Then there were the special cases: the four who drove in from Columbus, called from Macy's, had no place to stay, who later came in and chatted, wanting to know whether marriages were legal between two guys (they're not, but St. Clements's will perform "unions" for guys), where the bars and baths were, and I clipped the free 56th Street Sauna coupon from Gay and gave it to them. One Spanish-sounding "bisexual" called in to be referred to WSDG, after a long talk trying to convince him that he should try SOMETHING, rather than just sitting at home frustrated, that we HAD lawyers that would help if he got into legal trouble, doctors that would cure sexual diseases if he caught them, and that there wasn't any infallible way to tell if someone was going to rob, club, or disease him: you just had to rely on your own intuitions. Others called for general information about Mattachine, and then the guy came in wanting to know what would happen if he said he was 4F for homosexuality on an application for a teacher's position in New York City. We chatted and I was favorably impressed with him, and we got talking about the Elgin and the three numbers I did there that afternoon, and he said he was living with someone who didn't permit him out that much, but he said something like "If you wanted to do anything here, is there a place?" I leaped in with "Are you propositioning me?" And he smiled and said he wouldn't mind, and I backed him into the gray foyer---not even THINKING to look if there were windows to the street through which we could be seen---and started caressing him, and he was hard, and groping me he found I was soft, so I stooped and unzipped him and took him out, feeling up and down the thick-thighed legs through his brown corduroys, and he grew to a pleasant size quickly, and then to an unpleasant size, so that I had to stop often and appraise the huge bulb on the end of his cock, rubbing it in my palm as I stretched my jaw even wider and still I knew I was chipping flecks of skin off the side of his huge cock with my teeth. Sucked and sucked, wondering what I would do if someone knocked at the locked front door, or if the phone would ring, but miraculously, nothing at all happened except that he got harder and harder, running his fingers through my hair, breathing quietly, and then he grabbed the back of my head and pushed my face into his crotch, so that I was chokingly full of his coming cock, which throbbed heavily and meatily again and again and again, until I figured he hadn't come for some days, and I drew back and began teasing him by sucking only on the end, and he began moving away, further and further away, until finally I had to let him go, standing up to say that I really enjoyed it, and he said he did too, he liked to be sucked, and said maybe he'd come back again sometime, and that his name was Walter. Yeah, Walter. Started asking Alan a rhetorical question about "How often do things happen here?" and he said he had a number of chances, but he never did anything, and he'd never HEARD of anyone who did anything, further saying that he didn't think some of the older more uptight members of the Board of Directors would appreciate it if they heard I'd done it, and it might be grounds for tossing me off the counseling staff, so he recommended that I tell no one ELSE about it: "Personally, I think it's fine, more power to you," but I could tell that he would hold it against me if it ever came to a position, not unthinkable, where he would want to hurt my reputation: hopefully, it would damage him for TELLING, in the far future when it would make no difference anymore, more than me for DOING it. Stayed until 10:15, finally chasing out the talkative 4, feeling GREAT about it.


DIARY 2573


Sergio's been talking with someone for about half an hour about a drinking problem, and he's been there since 5:30 waiting for a Brazilian who was supposed to show up this evening who never did. He stays around until about 7, letting me have the phone, which seldom rings except for a few "CARE" packages, which Sergio shows me how to make up, along with a "Gay Survival Kit," and typing the cards that go along with it. Then Bob Girton comes in to help with the Mattachine Times, and Jerry Dancey and I put together many of the October-November Times before Bob brings over the December ones from next door and we start on those, since they have to get out this weekend. They want to change the lock on the door again, for the third time this year, because of the Leitsch thing, and people file in: one to use the library, Madolyn to see what's going on, Henry Messer with two beautiful friends, especially one Charlie, who has the square good looks of the old-favored Mario Papiri, who will work on the typing of the next Times, which hopefully puts me and my available Selectric out of business, except that I'd love to work with Charlie. Everyone bustles around talking to everyone, and we have a long talk about doctors with someone who comes in saying that Stern makes passes at everyone, and Charlie recommends Orton in the Village, on 12th Street, and I recommend Azak, meaning to call him later and ask if he doesn't mind. He talks about getting crab lice and diseases at the Continental, saying that it was lousy before they fixed it up nicely, and the price seems to be somewhere between $12.50 and $14.50. But mostly I share inanities with Jerry, who seems like a stupid idiot most of the time, but then it turns out that he DOES paste-ups, wants to work for Mattachine (though Bob Milne may be using the Tom Sawyer fence-painting method of "you don't REALLY need to help out"), and is willing to work on the Times, willing to do the paste-ups, and has such a reputation to uphold that he'd use a phony name on anything he wrote for the Times, and Bob/Marc insisted it was a real pain to use your real name and have cranks starting to call at all hours of the day and night, impinging on your freedom and private life, to where he felt he HAD to use a phony name, though he was afraid of family and friends, too.


DIARY 2606


Put on all the lights and call the answering service to find there are no messages, and since the office is going to be closed the next two Fridays because of the holidays, I'm expecting a slow night. Read through a disappointing Vector after being attracted to the great torso on the cover, and the phone rings a few times with gay bar references, and then Jerry Dancey comes in, and I'm torn between alternatives: Alan Henderson told him about my doing someone, and they're determined I'm never going to be alone in the office; it's just a coincidence, because he has to pick up some of the Mattachine Times for distribution to the Oscar Wilde Bookshop; or that he likes me (or is lonely) enough to come in every time I come in, and while we're stapling and folding the Times, he DOES say that he used to help out, but then everyone turned him off, and he didn't say, but implied, that I now turned him ON and he was willing to help. Much bizarre train-of-thought conversation, then Henry Messer came in to do some things, and then the phone rang with my two GREAT calls of the evening: one from the guy who's been robbed by a pickup at the Yukon, and wanted to give his description (Rasknolnikov-like facial tension, medium height, brown hair) to some central file, and then he was kicked in the groin by a "friend" and wanted to know if he should sue. I suggested he could talk to a lawyer free for a bit to see if he had a case (Messer agreed), and then take it up with HIM: it was a legal matter I didn't know about. Then the Christmas-saddie called up from York, Pennsylvania, saying that he couldn't get out of his married house, wanted someone to talk to him, got names of bars in his area, asked if he could call the bars and ask to send someone over, and then said "The situation has become somewhat enlarged, do you know what I mean?" and I have my first telephone jerk-off call. He hints I can say things that would make him happy (What? Jerk off, man; or OH, you're so manly; or shoot it, shoot it, yum?), but I said there were people around, and he said that I'd been a great help just talking to him, and I hung up feeling drained and somewhat cheated by someone who may have been pulling my leg all along. Merry Christmas!


DIARY 2618


Evening starts with a few phone calls (and I forget to call answering service!), and then it's quiet while I thumb through the magazines on the racks, noting down which I feel look best, doing all but a few Vectors, and then I get, again, the two most difficult at the same time: the fellow whose brother was trying to kill his father, he just lost his job and can't afford to move out, yet he knows he can't stay with the family, and he finally agrees to come into the office, where he's small and mousy and takes down a couple of phone numbers for jobs and places to stay, and a student from Poughkeepsie who almost refuses to talk, and says he'll call back later, which he does, and finally get him to start thinking about the FACT that if he's only 19 and his parents are putting him through school and he's made the decision to NOT be active homosexually because of his need to study, and he IS going away to school, he IS independent to a degree, but he is also DEPENDENT to a degree, and since his parents, he figures, already KNOW he's gay, why NOT confide in them and at least have SOMEONE to talk with, and then not feel so HURT when THEY ignore HIM, as HE had been ignoring THEM earlier on in the vacation. Other call in about minor matters, and there's a semi-jerkoff call from a bed-ridden guy who starts by asking for a houseboy, continues to S-M activities, then ends up asking MY preferences and likes and who I might recommend to him, then he realizes I'm not really "into" him, so he thanks me and hangs up. Jerry comes in AGAIN and we chat about the pretty Italian whose apartment is filled with photos and drawings and casts of fists he's been fucked with: "a forest of mushrooms," and he appalls me by saying that Bob Milne lost his arm in a traffic accident when he was 12, and NOT in an S-M scene, and how he's NOT into that himself (though he looks it with his shaved-bald head), but once made a campy S-M film where Bob was putting the stump of his arm around his ass as if his whole hand had vanished into his fist-fucked person. "Oh, that crazy Jerry Dancey, he'll do ANYTHING." Many calls for Bill, whom I've never met, and for New Year's Eve parties that no one will call to INQUIRE about.


DIARY 2627


Get followed in the door at 6 by Jim Barden the librarian, and we chat at odd moments through the night about the former library and books lost, 16 copies of "The Sixth Man," the first edition of "Recherche du Temps Perdu," Katherine Cornell and her secretary on Juliet's balcony in "Quicksilver," which she tried to buy up, the upcoming subject index, and bibliographies. Then Alice calls from Liberation House and lovely Len Ebreo comes up to Gestetner lots of sheets, and we talk about the house and consciousness-raising and dances that aren't meat racks, and he's got loads of charisma. Another fellow comes in quickly to say he's just gotten out of jail in Boston, has no clothes, no place to stay, haven't eaten, and I panic to Alan Henderson when I can't find the crash pad place that used to be, by coincidence, Liberation House, and he suggests the Baltic Coffee House, and they agree to put him up, and he hints I should give him car fare, but I don't, and then Stuart from the meeting last night comes in and pays $17 for a membership and gives him a quarter for subway fare, and we talk about baths and Mafia. Then there are lots of long distance calls, from Ohio and Florida and New Jersey and Canada about bars and lawyers and doctors, a panic call about getting someone to make an announcement at the Columbia Student's Earl Hall dance about New Danny's, and a married guy who wants to meet someone NOT in baths or bars or meetings, and I say I can't honestly recommend the other alternative: the streets, and say his SAFEST bet would be the baths, and he says he'll think about it. Another calls wanting to meet guys under 18 years old, and I think there are no organizations of that sort, other than the streets, and Len helpfully calls in about Gay Youth. There are other calls for doctors and bars, and the phone is busy practically all night, getting more calls than any other night, and Jerry Dancey didn't HAVE to come in to keep me busy (unless he knew Jim was coming in), and all the latest Times were bound, so I didn't have that to worry about, and there were lots of JOB calls, too, one for proofreading that's unfortunately an office job, and corporate staffers, that I can recommend to someone who calls in just after, so it feels like I've really DONE something tonight.


DIARY 2646


Jerry Dancey comes bouncing in even before I have a chance to check on the phone messages, talking about the crazy people he knows and the crazy situations he gets himself in for. Message service says a number of people will call back, and they do: from Seattle, Pennsylvania, and upstate New York. Numbers call for lawyers and employment, and I'm happy to get them the information. Then after the initial flush of calls and someone comes in to give his membership dues (and Bob tells me only later about the receipt that I should give for these things, still learning my job!), I eat my sandwich over Jerry's admonition that I should take time out for eating. Bob's in, chortling over his cleverness in putting out the OLD copies of Mattachine Times to be collated and stapled, and he says that Alan's said nothing to him about my becoming record reviewer, and he gives me some old tears from the reviewings and his address where the records are now, and I say I might be past to pick them up after the party. Jerry takes a number of calls in the other room, being very convenient, and still Bill H. hasn't shown up. I do a couple of care packages and add a couple of things to the Rolodex, including the Pierrepont Baths in Brooklyn, which are only $2.50, and then when things have slowed down, I get the only difficult call of the evening, from a house-chained 16-year-old student who has to care for his cancer-dying mother. He has no father and can't talk to anyone at school, so he wants to talk to someone, but has no topics of conversation. I try to inquire about unhappiness and he's resigned himself to staying with her until she dies, about school gays and he says there are no organizations and the guys he'd LIKE to have aren't available, fantasizes about males, but his lack of follow-up to the questions on fantasies convinces me this isn't a jerkoff call, yet there are terrible pauses while I rack my brains to think of something to ask or something to say, since he turns down every offer of bar or bath or organization, has nothing to contribute, then thankfully he has to go, after about half-hour on the phone. I finish the old Times and get out at 9, leaving Bob to lock up.


DIARY 2656


Dick and I talk about apartments until Jerry Chandler arrives, and he goes all out in praise of my view, my portrait, my Christmas wreath, and my rooms, and we chat about the past history of Mattachine (about how it was the ONLY thing until GAA started, thanks to Dick Leitsch turning off the activists from Mattachine because he felt they might threaten HIS power) and how there seldom WERE meetings, and that GAA just started giving competition, but how we were learning to coexist) and then Madeleine Cervantes enters at 7:45, saying she's usually early, and Dick calls the office to verify that Warren Wilson isn't going to be able to make it. Jerry says he doesn't want to RUN for anything because he wants to be appointed Executive Director, and I say I don't want to run because I don't know enough about the organization. Madeleine comes up with lots of names from the past, for new suggestions, and will meet with Dick at the office tomorrow to sort through names which will occur to her as being good possibilities, and then we'll have a nominating party at Henry Messer's so that we can all get to know them. Jerry has to leave somewhat early, so we talk about bylaws and nominating who WE would like to see in, and that Bob Milne would run for president again if someone ELSE would take over the burden of the mail and the office and advertising. Then they get into an awful discussion about how mail, advertising revenue, office personnel, stationery, and everything else is just sort of slipping by, but Dick and Madeleine seem to be taking an interest in it, giving valuable comments about what could be done in the future, so I agree that I'll run for the Board of Directors, not figuring I'll win, but getting my name before the membership for the year before I'll probably decide to run AGAIN. They disagree about various people, but discuss their good and bad points with admirable restraint, and it seems like a fruitful encounter. We agree to have the next meeting here in two weeks at 7 pm, and they're easy to have because they drink only water, though they smoke lots of cigarettes, and they leave in good time before John gets here. More interest in next meeting.


DIARY 2664


Jerry Dancey comes in immediately after I do at 6, tries to talk but I sort of shut him off by calling for no messages, and phone rings a few times. Bill Hrtelendy (or whatever) comes in, surprise, saying he's been sick, a friend's been down with hepatitis, his work in the lab's been busy because everyone has either the Hong Kong (no, not that one, but another) flu or the bubonic plague, which isn't so, either. Phone's not terribly busy, not even ONE challenging call through the evening, just the normal run of doctors and bars and baths, except for the dyke who calls in for lesbian bars in Nassau county, whom I can't help very much. Bill and I start stapling old Times, but then Henry Messer comes in with announcements for the next few months' activities, and we start folding and stuffing them. Bob Girton comes in with the stack of records, not as many as we'd both thought, for me to review for the Times, and Jerry starts talking about everyone who needs help, and I start making a list of the committees and committee chairmen who need help, and he says he'd be willing to help any action committee I'd want to set up. Figure to telephone members, but Jerry reminds me that most of the membership cards wouldn't have telephone numbers---anyway they're locked up. Then Marty Nelson, the fellow who'd called about being robbed from the Yukon and kicked by someone else, and who I think also called about the New Year's Eve parties, came in to thank me personally for listening to him, saying I had a "good ear" (which of course gives him the liberty to talk endlessly to me), and he says he'd be willing to help on some sort of psychological committee, and practically kisses me when I show him the list of committees that need help, and he's convinced that he's on my fan club, just as he says Alan Henderson is, though I suspect Alan was only too glad to praise ME to get Marty off his OWN neck. Madolin's in, too, doing some duplicating work, and she wants some help walking down West End, so the three of us take off at 9:30, Marty still jabbering away and Madolin listening, and she shows me her dance workshop at 65th and West End, and he begs me to have lunch with him, or something, anytime, and I say maybe later.


DIARY 2680


Dr. Helen Kaplan SAYS she won't interrupt, but most of the questions come from her, and not from the unruly, late coming-in, early going-out class of 70. Ruth Simpson starts off on a terribly political aspect, ranting about how hostile women are to gay women, about the pigs who upset the DOB headquarters, and now they have no place to meet, and indicating a very strange "very loving" triangle with Ellen and Eileen. Ellen is shy and low voiced, talking about her dependence and analysis, Eileen is brash and covering, John is quite sweet, I say my piece, and Bob Milne doesn't get his say (with numerous telling pieces: his brother was MOST against him when he was put in jail, possibly because Bob REFUSED his sexual advances in bed: EVERYONE HAS BOTH COMPONENTS IN THEIR PERSONALITY, SO IT'S JUST AS FAIR TO ASK WHAT CAUSES HETEROSEXUALITY AS TO ASK WHAT CAUSES HOMOSEXUALITY: a better question might be, what causes anyone NOT to be BISEXUAL; there's been a lot of hormonal discoveries lately that seem to offer a better solution, and he went on into some hazy parallel development between the bearing mother and the borne fetus; and if the analysts say a domineering mother and weak father produce a male homosexual, while the opposite produces a female homosexual, how do they explain sibling homosexuals; and that every POSSIBLE combination of good and bad parents produces and DOESN'T produce homosexuals. Ruth makes the great point: well my heterosexual parents didn't teach me to be heterosexual. They ask about permanency, and I score heavily by saying "We can't take each other for granted," and John gets misty eyed when he talks about the wide-range cultural, economic and social range all brought together in the Bangkok bar SIMPLY because they were gay, and I regretted not saying two things: that prison inmates prefer to be linked on SEXUAL preferences if they're gay, on RACE preferences if they're not; and that promiscuity might be better understood if it were reiterated that sex is FUN. But the timing went well, the class seemed interested, and Kaplan again said she'd mail us their "pitifully small" contribution for speaking to the class through the mails. Good session.


DIARY 2681


Bill got in right away, and he started by typing some answers to letters, but Len came in and I got instructions on the stencil machine, Bob Girton came in and we started going over my list of activities, and he gave lots of corrections. I went through the membership file and found 390 active male members and 11 (only) active female members, for a total of 401 members, of which only 85 gave phone numbers in NYC, though of course it would be possible to find more numbers from the phone book, though when Alan was talking about grass on the phone, Len said that wasn't wise, and when we dialed FAG0707, there was the whine of Len-reported tapping, and Art-reported NOT tapping. Wayne came in, an open-faced doll, and we talked a long while about various activities of Mattachine, and HE came up with the phrase, "So it's mainly a SERVICE organization," which I should have said, and he said he's take member profiles to the Tuesday meeting that I couldn't get to, that he found someone else to do the record reviews, which was nice, since, after I'd seen the awful list, I wasn't interested anymore, though I had to bring them in tomorrow, but since with talking and phones when Bill was in the john or on another phone all took so much time, I didn't have time to type the stencils for the profile pages. One of Bill's friends was there, quite a cute blond, and someone called in to say that INTRO 475 was killed in committee, and DeMarco stated something about GAA's floorshow making them undeserving of such a law. Someone called from Jersey about a job, and ended giving us a great list of Jersey homophile organizations, and someone from Westchester called for three "out" gays to give their pictures and stories to a series of upstate newspapers. Henry Messer read my list and thought it was a great idea, Bob has already sent the January Times to the printers, Jerry called me about that, and I hardly felt the effects of being sick, except that I could sort of SENSE my stomach all evening, and I felt quite feverish, though I was certain, as usual, that a thermometer would indicate no physiological increase of temperature.


DIARY 2693


Dick Smith starts apologetically by saying that he's forgotten to bring the materials from home, and then Madolin starts on her one-string song about wanting to have a Spring Weekend, and we sit around inanely discussing possible places and prices and dates, and I feel like contributing zilch, except that I know how I like to be praised for what I'm doing, and I try to muster enthusiasm for what Madolin's doing, but all I can do is suggest the Continental, which she says is a good idea (using my technique) but she doesn't think lots of the flashy names on the letterhead from the Board of Advisors would like to go there. Dick says he's been trying to get in touch with many people to say yes, but most will say yes ONLY if they'd otherwise be forcing an office to go uncontested, and many don't want the dirty jobs, only the clean ones. Jerry again brings the idea of get-togethers in the offices some evening up, and says he'd like me to call him about the possibility. Madolin agrees to take the ad from the Church of the Holy Apostles, will be at the meeting on Thursday, and says that a double-page ad would probably be $75, but she seems to want someone to INVEST her with total authority, but it seems no one HAS total authority around here. Dick has pitifully little to say, except that the names have to be ready by February 28 for elections in May, that there will be a meeting on the 15th (which corresponds to something from the Henry Messer list, it turns out) for the prospective nominees, and he has some ideas about my project, which Madolin accepts by making out a project profile for the Spring Weekend, seeming almost to know the purpose of the form without being told. Jerry talks sanctimoniously braggingly about his wife and her naiveté, we discuss phony names, like of Jerry Bancey, and about lots of other things that essentially have nothing to do about nominating, but illustrating the NEED that members have to get together and just TALK about the organization to generate some heat of enthusiasm about working for the organization. Looks like the Eighth Day Club is dead from lack of support, too. Thankfully, they break early at 8:30, so I can get out to the Cubiculo.


DIARY 2707


Bill calls in saying that he's sick, and I think in the back of my mind that he heard the Mattachine Times was going to be in this evening for binding, and he wants to avoid that, and that there'll be no one covering the phone during the meeting this evening. Jerry Dancey comes in and I ignore him again in getting the phone answered and getting things ready for the meeting tonight. There are a few easily handled phones calls about lawyers and bars and doctors and general services, and then I'm to the files to check various copies of the Constitution against each other while Alan Henderson mans the phone for a number of calls. Madolin shows up and complains about not having eaten, Dick Smith arrives and Bob Girton, and everyone sits around waiting for Henry Messer to come in with the new MT editor. I get disgusted with the fruitless talk and get in to fold the old issues of the MT from October-November, just to get rid of them, and by 8:15 Madolin and Jerry have helped me and we're finished with it and everyone's here for the meeting, including a very tall and sexy Jack Ganfield, who'll be fun to work with. There's lots of pointless talk about various things that Henry's interested in, and I do my part in disorganizing the meeting by overly referring to the Action Committee, getting everyone to fill out their Member's Profiles DURING the meeting, and I'm not favorably impressed with Don Goodwin, who seems to be often mentioned but little active, and physically he's obese with a pushy nature that constantly shifts between being offensively effeminate and aggressively available. Charles Mountain seems like a good choice for editor, and I have few thoughts about being the only typist. It'll be an experience for the sake of doing it once, and then I hope I can get rid of it. Endless talk of the new printer and the old editor (Bob Girton), but Henry handles everything nicely, though at great length, and I try to shoo everyone out the door at 9:30 when we're finished, but like a kaffeeklatch that won't end, everyone stands around the door in their coats talking, as if reluctant to leave into the rain, and Henry drives about 3/4 of the people south in his caramel Cadillac.


DIARY 2723


Bob's there early, Dominic's given me two more names for the member file, Alan annoys me by not bringing in the members' profiles, and I jokingly take him up on his offer to make more, and walk into the room to find about 20 copies sitting there, having (I guess, unless it WAS magic) been used for a test of the new Gestetner. Meeting gets started slowly at 8:15 because Henry and Bob are attending to other business, and then they get bogged down talking about Dick Leitsch and the bequest, and then Arthur Warner comes in and proceeds to expend about half the windiness in the room. He interrupts everyone, brings up anything he cares to, and tells Henry to shut up AFTER he's interrupted HIM. But when the Chicago meeting comes to the fore, Don Goodwin amazes everyone by donating $100 to Alan so that he can fly to Chicago to represent Mattachine from Friday through Sunday. I get very annoyed, Bob Girton's dreaming, Sergio and Dick are plainly nonattentive, and I put the question "What percent of tonight's board meeting has been a WASTE?" to each of them individually: Dick Smith starts off with 99 44/100, Sergio blatantly puts 100%, Don Goodwin says 95%, but the other side of the table, with Bob Milne presiding, says 0%, Bob Girton says 75%, Alan tells me 80%, I figure about 80%, Henry Messer says 96%, and Arthur Warner surprises by saying 1/3 to 1/2. I read them all off just before I leave for the evening at 10:30, and the next day talk to Henry Messer who says the meeting was vaguely typical, but every board that he's a member of acts the same way, and I mention my fantasy of each individual raising a flag when they're bored with the topic, and he says it sounds good, but comes up with an elaborate microphone-electrical signal system which sounds like he's making fun of me. I debate taking my name off the list of nominees for the board, but Henry says that the hope IS that some of the better members will get ON the board in place of some of the more talkative ones. Arthur was MOST of the trouble, Henry says Irwin Strauss does the same thing, but Alan and Bob and Bob Milne certainly contribute to the rambling, frustrating, endless fruitless discussions of the board.


DIARY 2726


Bill doesn't even CALL this evening to say that he won't be in, but he's not in for the second week in a row: his score is now only 2 out of 10. Bob Milne calls to ask if the Mattachine Times is in (no, it's Jerry Bancey) and I check next door to see that it isn't. Then Alan Henderson calls for me to check his mailbox to see if there's anything for him before his trip to Chicago, and there's only a personal letter from someone. Don Goodwin calls about something, and Dick Smith, and then I call Bob Girton to find out when the Times is getting here, and it's tomorrow, which I tell Dominic Marino when he calls. Henry calls about HIS mailbox and data about projects, and the only person of the Board of Directors who doesn't call me is Sergio Ponce, and he's probably the one who took the file card that had the phone numbers of the officers who WOULD give their numbers from the file. I try to copy names down who have phone numbers, but the phone is so busy I don't get a chance. Some drag queen comes in with a form from the New York Referral Service, and I find that she's a he, wants to join some organization, so I give him copies of "Drag," tell him all about the drag ball last Saturday, and get her to call Lee Brewster. By chance someone ELSE calls during the evening for information of that kind, too, so it's doubly used. Also someone wanted the TV parties, so I say I'll call him after I get home. There were other long distance calls about bars and baths and lawyers, and one, after being told about a dozen places in London, said movingly at the end, "I think I love you," and hung up. Then it's 9:30 but I still want some of the names, so I copy down about 40 of them by 10, and get out, but not before some gal calls from Town Hall to say she always talked to Dick Leitsch, and he'd get hundreds of people to go there, even at such short notice, and I began to see how he had really been set up in his own KINGDOM when "he and Madolin" ran the whole organization. Put everything away, feeling good about the four CARE's sent out, the information given, the names gotten, and all without the help of anyone else on the staff, though I hope I get someone fast!


DIARY 2752


Jerry and some unknown fairly cute gay and Marc are behind the beer counter and Henry is busy setting up the system, sorry that John Hood couldn't make it. Peter Ogren and Randy Wicker soaked up the praise without doing any of the work except furnishing the videotapes, and after a few introductory remarks by Henry, including a pitch for me for the member profiles, they put on the tape. The audience was so rude, hooty, campy, and laughed so hard at everything that I couldn't hear anything, so I went to the front and sat right under the set. Virginia Graham was unbelievably middle class, and not even the amazement of her psychological co-panelists could shake her, and everyone later said that her audience would still be all for her stand of "no churches should be needed for THEM, why do they always talk about what they do in bed, some of my best friends are gays, etc." Troy Perry came across rather well, but still couldn't quite stand up to her and her refusal to believe no one knew the cause or cure of homosexuality. Then they showed another tape of punishment of gays in Cook County, Chicago, including intramuscular injections while being strapped to a bed for 77 hours, and another, the first tape they made, of a gay-in at the marriage license bureau, where I was thoroughly turned off by the activism and the pointedly harassing tactics they used: just BEGGING to be hit so they could hit back, and not even treating the other person as HUMAN. It was a disgusting performance, REGARDLESS of the fact that they had been called "fags" by the office. Their reaction was far more reprehensible than the original action, and I felt put off the whole gay movement while viewing it, particularly coupled with the faggoty comments during the Perry-Graham tape. Absolutely no one filled out the form, though two took them "for a look." Some awful hairy fellow from Chicago cornered me to talk endless politics, and Alan Henderson did a very good job communicating the progress from Chicago, and my opinion of him continues to rise. Dick and Marc and Don (THEY, not Charles Mountain, told me the Times meeting is on SATURDAY) and I left together, thereby entering a clique, as per Dick's conversation on the following Monday, and we chatted about operas and gay matters until I got off.


DIARY 2757


Get in early with my stencils to be done before business starts, and I get the restaurant sheets finished and away just as Madolin comes in and the phone rings at 6. It's the blind Carl who bugs everyone, and he stays on, asking me about giving his telephone number to friends, saying he wants to meet me, until I say that Madolin's waiting for me to use the Gestetner. She asks if I've been using it and I stupidly lie, since it's obvious that it's BEEN used, and I get the member profiles through while answering the phone again and again, and a gal comes in whose lover of 14 years has just died and she wants to find out how to get back into the women's end of the gay life. A few other phone calls and Dick Smith gets in at 7:30, after Jerry Chandler's been in and out already. Charles Mountain is the only candidate to show up, and I get out the membership files about 8:30 to start jotting down numerous names, even of people in the area who DON'T have phone number, and I get 175 names in all, which means that the MAJORITY of members are from out of town (and I think it might be interesting to do a survey of what STATE and CITY in New York and New Jersey they're FROM, to show how FEW people Mattachine actually has to WORK with. Dick starts talking to Charles Mountain and Madolin about the nominating process, and Charles is being terribly obtuse, not seeming to be willing to believe Dick when he says he's honestly TRIED to get two people nominated for each position on the election slate, but no one WANTS to run. I finish my list of names and put everything away, talking with a particularly fetching sounding fellow from Pennsylvania who wants to come out, so I recommend the Club Baths to him, telling him to call me back if he likes it. I get ready to leave at 9:30, but Charles says, "Please, Bob, sit down for just a minute," so I sit down, looking at my watch, deciding to give him five minutes, and all I say is that "I agree with everything that Dick Smith says," and after five minutes Charles hasn't said anything useful, so I stand up and say "Goodbye" and leave the office, getting Dick to promise that he'll lock up and lock the files, which had been left OPEN when I looked.


DIARY 2760


Marc reads much of the typed material while I'm fixing up the files for all my Mattachine stuff, and when I get in he gives me a number of corrections to various articles, which I start making a list of. Don Goodwin arrives just after Jerry Bancey, with a very wet cap from the awful weather, and Jack Ganfield is reluctant to leave his shoes in the hall, but he looks great with his wedding band and long legs with sanded crotch. Charles Mountain is last to arrive and we waste much time in the meeting talking about financial matters. Don Goodwin seems determined to do the layout after Jack Ganfield criticizes the layout work by Jerry Bancey, which is really awful, and Marc and I get into a peripheral argument about nominating Arthur Warner if the nominating committee really doesn't WANT to nominate him. Finally Marc takes control and says the stuff that MUST go in should be sorted out, and Charles insists that most of his stuff DOES go in. I file things that have to be typed, and have a large stack of filler material for subsequent issues. They're keeping it to 24 pages, which is nice, and Marc's going to do the entire Insider, which saves me time, but which will probably increase the error rate of the paper by about twice. Charles has no idea about what's good or not, but usually he can be beaten down by whoever knows more than he does. Don Goodwin's been working all weekend, so he won't be able to get to layout before the following weekend, which gives me lots of time to finish the stuff that has get to be typed. Charles keeps wanting to give more stuff to me to do, but I insist that I'm ONLY a typist and a writer for the newspaper, and that's all I have to do, which I have to repeat to Henry Messer, who calls during the week and asks that I go along to the new editor's, and I say that's really NOT my business, and he should get OTHERS to do it. We talk a lot about personalities in very round-about terms, and finally some of them have to leave at 4, so Charles REPACKS all the items he's brought to be typed, and I clean out the last of their ashes by the time Bernie arrives at 4:30. Hopefully, more such full-scale meetings won't be necessary in the future. Madolin called later to say there are only about 42 pages of ads, which is LOW, too low.


DIARY 2817


In at 6 and Bill Hertelendy calls to say he'll be in about 7:30, since things are still hectic at the hospital. The phone's pretty busy, and I also call some of the people I'd gotten the names of from the church, also having called a few during the day. Madolin's there taking up space for her stencils for the Tenants' Union, and before I can get to the membership files to check the names and phone numbers I have, David and Tania come in to chat about how they can help out. I go into the library with them for the major portion of the evening, talking about grass and their lives in Paris and his classical ballet stints in schools on Long Island, and getting stoned on drugs and otherwise, about my book, and about her spending $10,000 in four months, though she seems to have no money now and is living with "Poodle," who has fabulous thighs (which she pronounces "tights"). Don Goodwin calls to say that he'll be working at 11 am on Saturday, and that I should tell Bob Milne, when he stops by to drop of some of HIS articles for me to type, to tell Jerry that. I call Alan to find where his article is, and he'll bring it in tomorrow, so I have to come in tomorrow to pick it up to type it and bring it in on Saturday! Call Sergio to get the phone number of the librarian who IS Jim Bardin. Charles fusses about ads for the Times and I seem to be the major reference for lesbian bars, the gay switchboard, and other matters that people call in with, including John, who coyly says he's feeling like sex tonight, and I say I was intuitive of that when I called Alex and said I wasn't coming to her place AFTER Mattachine because I felt that he WOULD want to see me. Madolin continues to interrupt and horn in, Bill arrives about 8 and spends a lot of time with HIS friends who come in, and I send out a CARE package to one of the contacts at the church and refer many people to Chris Reed for consciousness raising, and Tania will come in tomorrow and David will come in next Thursday, and so will Dick Smith, along with Al Perry and Dan Taylor to find out how to respond to correspondence. Charles fusses while waiting for Bob, who comes about 9:45, and I leave at 10 with the article for ME to edit.


DIARY 2820


The office is dark when I get there at 6, and I answer the phone for a few of the calls, then move from the inside office to the outside office when some guy calls and wants to use the library, and I think with paranoia that if I'm not watching him from the desk, he may leave with the best books under his arms. Then Chris comes in at 6:30, saying that he always gets in at that time, and I tell him that I partly intuited that when I told Tania to come in, not at 6, but at 6:30, to be sure Chris was here when she got here. In fact, she telephoned just as he walked in the door, and they talked and decided it wouldn't do any good if she came in this evening, but that he'll contact her. I gave him the Taffel name from the church, and the name from the guy who'd called last night, but it turns out that everyone wants to LEAD a group, and no one wants to participate in it yet. So in time I hope it'll even out. Chris tells me that Alan said he's not going to be able to be on the phone staff much more, and I say we're going to have to get lots of replacements for everyone. I get down to checking the names and telephone numbers in the membership file, deciding to WRITE IN the phone numbers where they weren't listed, and I get a few new names, too. I get Alan's article, leave other stuff for Don for tomorrow, show Chris the article about him that I typed, and chat with some people on the phone. Charles comes in to do some more typing for articles for me, and he finds that the typewriter in the office near the door works fine, and has the same type as this, so it can be used for continuation pages. The IBM typewriter also seems to work. Chris sits and bends my ears about the almost-takeover of the Board of Directors which had been planned for Monday, but since Alan hadn't talked to anyone about it, maybe it's been aborted. I felt fairly awful about coming into the office on two consecutive nights, and having to come in tomorrow, too, but having the chance to talk to Chris is good, and getting his ideas about Mattachine seemed to make him happier, and when I left at 9 I had the feeling that I was doing a good job: but what a pity I'm not getting paid!


DIARY 2825


Want to sort out the Mattachine Times so I can get a complete set, but when I go to the closet to get a card table to sort them out on, I find there are copies in the closet too, so it's more complex that I'd thought. Get the table and floor full of stuff and people keep calling in about working today, and then Don comes in about 12:30 and I have to move everything into the library since he wants to work in that office. We talk about the material for the issue, then I tell him to get to work. Charles and Jack come in, and later Marc and Henry drop by for various businesses. I get down to the metal on the Times rack and find it HAD been in order, but there are now boxes of stuff all over, and I get into the closet and start throwing everything out of THAT, finding the missing folder of stuff from Bob Amsel, and telephone the bookshop on 72nd and take the stuff over there. Sweep the floor, sneezing from the dust, and get a nice clear space to later pile the boxes with the file copies of the old Times. Charles and Don keep asking me stuff and distracting me from my work, then Dominick Marino comes in at 2 and starts talking everyone's ear off: about his work there, about ads for the paper, about his circumcision, which we finally tell him to write up for the Times. I put one, then two, then three boxes of Times into the closet, all neatly labeled, and then pack the rest of them away in cartons for Henry Messer, who said he likes to get rid of them by the handfuls whenever he visits a bar or the baths. But January's issue is almost out of stock at THIS point. Show the list of people to Marc and Henry, and also mention the "fantasy" of the flags at the Board of Directors meeting, and it seems I'll do it. Get hungrier and hungrier, and finally see clear to leave the place about 7. Charles made a telling comment about "Let's not get ANAL about it," and I kept remarking that's exactly what I WAS getting, and Don made a lovely series of jokes about taking my photograph IN the closet as epitomizing Mattachine's activities. Don then thanked me most thoroughly before I left, and Charles thanked me for the typing, and Jerry's coming in tomorrow with Don, so I left in good spirits.


DIARY 2832


Talk names and characteristics to Don Goodwin and Dick Smith and Sergio Ponce before the meeting starts, and Bob's late so it doesn't get started until 8:25, and THEN it starts with a half-hour's boring political workings against Thomas J. Cuite, majority leader of the City Council, second only in power to Mayor Lindsay, by Barry Salerno, the lisping bore from Chicago, whom we try to limit to ten minutes, but can't. I start reading Preyrefitte's "Outcast of Capri" or something, just to assuage my boredom. Henry Messer tries to steer the meeting as usual, and I interrupt to be the first made to sit down with my flags. Charles Mountain is sitting at the FOOT of the table, but Alan Henderson keeps talking toward him, and his cultivated, low voice seems to increase in frequency, many times butting in just as frankly as Arthur Warner. I blow up during a lengthy discussion of the legacy, during which everyone AGREES we want it, we're having problems getting it, we have to have legal assistance, a number of people are trying to give legal assistance, the board can think of lots of "if's" to consider, but no one can do anything about it at the meeting, so I see no reason to take everyone's time up with it. Charles gets annoyed with me, and we seem to be declared enemies at last, and Bob Milne starts [found this old typewriter ribbon in the dresser, and I'll see if it's good for anything] spouting off about how everyone might be BORED with the talks, but he's put in long hours DOING something about it, and if anyone wanted to DO anything to help them, they were more than welcome. Cover little things, getting many of the flags up, and the idea seems to be helping. Then Alan starts talking about the Chicago convention, and it's mostly a repeat of things said before, except that he emphasizes the degree to which these people with disparate interests found they could work amicably together, permitting votes to be taken and the majority to rule, even though there were some notorious convention breaker-uppers there. I said I had to leave at 10:30, and I did, waved goodbye to only by Sergio, and Alan said it continued to 11:30, but that HE thought it was a good meeting.


DIARY 2842


I poke around in the mailboxes and answer the first few phone calls before Dick Smith and Al Perry come in almost together at 6:30, and while Dick is checking his mailbox, Al's saying how cute I am and we exchange a brief warm kiss while I remark about reactions of passersby in the street. David Gleaton comes in quickly, and he also sits down at the talk Dick's giving on writing letters, and I join them when there's little action on the phone. Bill doesn't call OR show up. I call Bob Milne to apologize if I said anything wrong to him at the Board of Directors meeting, but he said I was the least of his detractors, that he would try to get the project list to me, and that he would get in the rest of the mail in his backlog. Alan called to chew me out, gently, about my telling Charles Mountain to shut up, but I said he promised to be another Arthur Warner, and I'd gotten tired of him from the meetings I had with him for the Times. We talked a bit about Bernie, and I told him about the Care package he sent me from Philly. There was a longish call from a girl concerned about her young gay friend, and I recommended that Chris call her to get him into one of his forming encounter groups. Dick finished his talk self-deprecatingly, and Al and David seemed content to sit alone and compose answers to letters. The last phone call was the best, as the 16-year-old who'd called on January 13 with the no-father and cancer-mother called again, and I recognized him, and though I'd decided BEFORE that it wasn't a jerkoff call, this time I thought it was, and recommended "he let someone else take a hand," and he, after a pause, admitted that his hand WAS getting tired, then went on to talk about his hard, thick, red, cock, wanted to know what I was wearing, whether I had hair on my chest and suckable nipples, and we talked about hand pressures: wet or dry, firm or teasing, gentle or rough, and we settled for firm but gentle, and he said he was coming when I said I had to hang up in a few minutes, and couldn't talk because there were people in the room, though I lied to say my hand was on my cock, and he breathed heavily into the phone, but I wasn't terribly convinced: so from going to thinking it WASN'T a jerkoff call when it WAS, to thinking he DIDN'T come when maybe he DID.


DIARY 2873


Get in a couple minutes after 6, expecting a crowd, but there are a few phone calls, I try calling Don Goodwin to praise him for the marvelously good looking Mattachine Times but he's not there, and try to call Bob Milne about a lecture at Brooklyn College but HE'S not there. David comes in at 6:30, and gets down to some letters he has to answer, and Chris Reed came in just before him to chat about sex and various things. They both dislike promiscuity, and my only point it that the HEALTHY person should be able to do EACH thing: promiscuity or faithfulness, depending on what he FEELS like doing. Being ONLY one way can be somewhat of a drag, but I speak from a privileged point of view, being the only one having a lover. David said that Tanya was trying to get in touch with me to write a show about Easter bunnies for her blind children, but I told him I just wouldn't have the time to do it. Later he said he was premiering "Le Corsair" at three schools tomorrow and had butterflies in his stomach at the thought. I invited him to Tsi-Dun, but he said that would be against his desires NOT to be promiscuous, saying that STRAIGHT people didn't go into places and shake their private parts at each other to get all hotted up. Chris said he liked romanticism and soft lights and candles and long relationships, but again I insisted it could be done BOTH ways. David said he was no longer excited by lengthy disrobing ceremonies, but I said he might be if he just TRIED it. The jerkoff called, talking about his "fucking hard-on," but I was busy typing up care packages, so I said I was busy and told him to call back next week. He seemed disappointed and just might not. Then David left at 9:05, saying he wasn't going to finish the last letter, but that he'd be back for the hoped-for crowd next Thursday, and I said he shouldn't be disappointed if no one showed up. But I wish they would. Some showed up to look in the library, and I managed to keep busy enough so that I didn't do any of the collating, which meant that Dominic had to phone me on Saturday and ask for names to help, but neither of the people I gave him did, so Don Goodwin was saddled with it Saturday night. Charles called, ugh, and said there was a Monday meeting of the Times staff. Sigh.


DIARY 2887


I get there before 8 pm, and Don Goodwin is there helping put the back copies together. We chat for a bit and I praise him about the layout again, and we start cooperating on putting them together, and Marc is helping, too, but when Jack Ganfield comes in for a fourth, things get complicated, and finally I end up doing most of the collating, and he merely tamps them into a stack for the stapler and the folder. Charles Mountain still hasn't shown up, and we're getting rather impatient. Marc comes up with his new scheme for pricing, and I suggest that the discounts should be bigger, as an even greater incentive for advertisers to take ONE ad for six or twelve times, whereas the higher initial cost won't really put them off, since most of them advertise more than once. Dominick is putting in his nonsensical comments, and we all start raving about Charles' lateness, and he finally arrives at 8:45 with hardly a word of explanation, but later he confesses that he'd stopped off for something to eat, and that helps things not at all. I announce that we're going to stop by 9:30, because I'm going home then, and there's really no business to discuss, which I thought was the purpose of the meeting, and Charles just makes me dislike him more by commenting about everyone working on the binding and he touches NOT ONE issue to bind through the part of the evening that I'm there for. He keeps insisting that the price for the issue is much higher than it is, and no amount of explaining by Marc can put the correct information through his thick skull. I speechlessly work away at the collating, joking with Jack when his fingers seem too dry or clumsy to collate quickly, and we bump back and forth without really anything going, and I have the feeling they were looking down at me as some sort of flunky because I was doing the dirty work while they sat around and chatted, or took time to smoke their cigarettes. Only Don Goodwin seemed to be conscious of how silly the whole idea of a meeting was, and there was little comment when I left at 9:30, resolving to make QUITE sure there's going to be BUSINESS done if Charles decides to call for any OTHER special meetings of the Mattachine Times staff.


DIARY 2897


No one at all in at 6, there are a few phone calls, but the Mattachine Times is still uncompleted in the library, so I get to work on that when David and Tanya come in at 6:30, and they set to work helping me. I'm interrupted by the usual number of long distance and local calls, and Bill phones to say he'll probably call Alan and resign from his position, since he never seems to be coming in. Back to collating while they share other duties, and to pass the time (I call Jerry, but he's not home, and get the call from Will Glover about the Tearoom's offer to Mattachine) we start talking about sex, and the past, and Tanya goes into her stories about beautiful men who have kinky tastes, asking her to go with them to girl's places who like to be beaten, and she beats them until she's sore in the arm, and still she's not appreciated. She likes to play and cuddle and kiss, but doesn't like to get fucked, and I say it's very similar with me, and even David says he couldn't get ANYTHING very large up his ass. I get into the subject of fist fucking, and we talk about people who enjoy getting pissed on and shat upon, and I tell them the tales told me by that long-ago cab driver about the bath-shit man at 2 Fifth Avenue, and the black woman who was rushed to the hospital with a broken Coke bottle up her cunt, and we laughed and groaned about each other's tales, and David insisted that he wasn't turned on by nudity, and Tanya kept saying that he was such an attractive "poodle" and then they left while I took my jerkoff call, not even getting very far along the line of kissing him all up and down his body, not even getting to his cock before he breathed heavily into the phone, and was through by 9:35, in time for me to get across the street and listen to the distraught Tanya tell about the little blind kids she was teaching, who jumped all over her and kissed her "with their little pricks (with a trilled "r") sticking straight out in front of them" and rolled about on the floor fighting, and how she gave them little gifts, and how that led to her being fired for "disrupting the discipline" of the poor animals after only two weeks on the job. She drank brandy for solace and sex.


DIARY 2907


I didn't really WANT to go, but I decided that I'd pick up the stuff for the Mattachine Times, be able to live up to my campaign statement that I attended all the meetings since the beginning of February, wanted to see if the Scrabble-badge routine was more accepted, and see what Will Glover looked like, who had called me on Thursday, then talked to Irwin Strauss, who referred him to Bob Milne. Don Goodwin and I started in on gluing the machine-made stamps onto the Mattachine Times, and Charles said there was nothing to be given me for the paper, that he'd give it to me at the meeting tomorrow. Bob Milne wasn't there, and when he DID get there, he had two guests with him, one from GAB, who said THEY weren't in financial trouble, since they'd made lots of money from dances, but wanted us to endorse a new group on the Upper West Side; and Will Glover, who couldn't give us everything we wanted absolutely free, so we didn't want anything. Irwin Strauss was actually there, and he struck me as less offensive than Arthur Warner, who showed up later and caused his usual difficulties. They went on about the usual topics of dances, the phone service, the bequest, which now seems to be ours, money, the newspaper, and assorted other things, and when I wanted to leave at 10, Henry Messer (who'd let it come out that he DID have a house on Fire Island, so now John can talk about it officially) restrained me, saying he wanted me to hear what he had to say, and then talked in glowing terms about a floor-through on CHRISTOPHER STREET, which seems to hold some sort of magic formula for success for gay organizations, and described the floor space and was going into intangibles when I left at 10:10 to get to "Potemkin." I'd put out the Scrabble boards, but no one passed the buttons around that I'd laid in the middle of the table, and Don Goodwin, though he'd praised the idea, only lined the buttons up on the tray and said nothing about them. Bob Milne kept absolutely no order, Irwin WOULD butt in without raising his hand, and Charles kept on his sonorous monologues even when no one was listening to him. It was more awful than before, and I don't know HOW I'll stand it if I'm elected to it.


DIARY 2916


The first phone call doesn't come for a bit, then Bob Girton comes in at 6:30 to wait for Charles Mountain, who calls and says he won't be there until 7:30, Don Goodwin calls to recommend "Cabaret" before it leaves its first-run house, and I in turn recommend "Beggar's Opera." Others call, mainly calls for bars this evening, though there's a long distance from Detroit visitor who's been entrapped and wants to know a gay organization there, and wants my personal opinion as to whether he should trust a lawyer who says he can "get him off easy" for $150 and maybe $50 in fines, and he wouldn't have anything except an obscure citation only in Detroit, and I say it sounds OK if the LAWYER sounds OK. A cute-sounding student calls from the Hilton, getting my recommendation for a restaurant, bar, and the baths in preference to "The Godfather." Someone ELSE calls with a broken voice, saying "I HAVE to talk---" and then hangs up with a sob. A bit later the phone rings and it's hung up AS SOON AS I pick up the phone. Pity. Charles is absolutely bull-headed about an eight-page "lead" article for the April Times, and nothing Bob or I can say to him will change his mind, so Bob gets it to type and I get the rest. Two fairly cute students from Binghamton, or somewhere, are doing a paper on the history of Gay Liberation, and borrow our files from the 50s, while Charles makes obscene remarks about his availability. Then he sits on the desk and gives me about an hour's sob story about his 14-year-old Puerto Rican lover, Chris Mountain, after his legal name-change, sanctioned by his mother who kept exclaiming about the quality of the furniture in his Beekman Place apartment, and about his Silver Star influenced springing of his lover from the grips of the truly barbaric military organization at Fort Leonard Wood, with aid of the Chaplain's Corps, an admission that he's his lover, telegrams to the commanding general, and lots of typing and phone calling. Then he leaves with me, puzzling over the fact that I DIDN'T get my jerkoff call this evening, and then lends me a quarter because all I have is a ten dollar bill and a dime. But layout is going to be SUNDAY, so I'll see him.


DIARY 2931


Get in just after 8:30 to find Charles Mountain there, and Marc shrugs his shoulders and said he "just arrived," but when he later says "I'm so far gone that I'll take responsibility for whatever happens," I suspect that HE called Charles to be there, so that Don and I could vent my anger about the current issue on the CAUSE of our anger, rather than doing it behind his back, which I think is a good idea. It starts by saying that the five-page article (I never thought it would reduce so far) is NOT going to be in, and Charles even quietly acquiesces when Marc demands that the entire paper by only 24 pages, probably because he already KNOWS that Don and I want that. Then I grab "All the News" and cut it down from the 17 original items to only 7, and others cut it down even further, but it's only reduced from two pages to one page, so Charles can put in more than all of the other three of us want ENTIRELY. Marc makes his point about Charles' flippant apology to Carl House, and he finally manages to get his way, and then I sort through all the articles, saying which ones I don't think should be in (and come to think of it, I didn't even SEE my thing about the Member Profile!), and most of the culls are from Charles Mountain, mostly funny without giving any news. Then I cut down on "The Living End," and Don cuts some of the pieces out of "Dr. Krankheit" and we all admit that we like humor, but we need news more. Then there's a hassle about Bob Milne's letter to the editor, which I don't even think needs to be printed, and Charles is saying it should be put in VERBATIM, which none of us will agree with, though Marc says he doesn't have the time to doctor it completely, but I go through it and at least try to clean up some of the punctuation and make clear SOME of the confusing terms. Don praises my talents toward that end, and I'm pleased at his attentions, even saying that I still think the article about him walking to Albany implies that he IS walking, and he says I'm right and corrects it. I keep bringing up my 9:30 departure, and Charles rumbles on, though not nearly so badly as before, and I say I think I've done all I can, and sweep out grandly at 9:30, just as I'd SAID I would.


DIARY 2935


Surprised to see David and Tanya coming in again, and there are a few other nice people who wander in, including one fellow who'd been there when I'd talked to the four high school girls, and he wants more information, so I look through all the stuff and manage to collect a number of back issues of the Mattachine Times which says things about law reform, and I tell him that he should donate a copy of his paper to the library, since it would gather lots of information in one place that there are few books about, though he gives me the name of one. Many phone calls for typical things, though one guy calls from Detroit and asks about how I'd handle an entrapment case when he's from New York and doesn't want to travel back to Detroit to fight it. Things hectic for the first hour and a half, and then Marc comes in with some letters and leaves them for me, and I put David and Tanya to work on them, showing him how to set up CARE packages, and I call a few people for Tsi-Dun between times, and Azak expresses interest in Mattachine, and I've forgotten to bring Jim Maher's address so I can send him something. Get a great call for Sgt. Dick Siee of the New York Police Force to teach some rookie cops, which sounds like fun, and get a call from Sol Wise about giving a questionnaire about homosexuality to the membership at the next meeting, and I talk to Alan Henderson about it, talk to Dick Smith about the nominations, and touch base with other people. Tanya and David are taken up with other things, and I read some of their letters to pass on them, and direct them to throw away the letters, since we can't hope to keep copies of everything---hey, maybe I can put them to work on filing! Otherwise it's only the phones and my private telephoning for Tsi-Dun that takes up the whole evening, and since things are pretty busy, time goes fast, they leave about 9:10, and I clean up the place a bit before leaving at 9:30, again not getting a jerkoff call, though there are still the voices on the phone who sound interesting and ask if I'm on duty every Thursday, and they say they'll call me back to give me progress reports on various bars, baths, and activities. I wish they would come in, however, to keep David hosting.


DIARY 2958


Two girls who passed me are my first clients, and they tell about leaving their husbands and four children and going down to Florida two weeks ago, then calling up for help, and driving up to make an appointment with Irwin Strauss on Sunday at 2 pm. They want their husbands to support them for the rest of their lives in a lazy ménage-a-six out on the Island, not interested in any kind of socializing, not enough interested in their marriages to go back to them even if THIS relationship doesn't last, and I can only remark about the differences between males and females and wish them luck. They said they enjoyed talking to me, and David arrives without Tanya, the one day I could have used her. He gets to work on letters left in my box, and I take care of the fairly typical calls, also getting off packages of info to Azak and Jim Maher. Then it's slow, David's typing up care letters, so I start cleaning out the wastebaskets, which have accumulated dreadfully because the plastic sacks have run out. With the donations from the donation box I go out and buy bags, after having taken a box of junk into the closet of the building next door from the entrance hall. Then Alan called with a dreadful story about his final meeting with Bernie, who obviously went back to Philly with a broken heart, though I suggested I'd probably never hear about it from HIM, he'd just brush it off with "Oh, I didn't feel like seeing him anymore." Another guy comes in wanting DeBoye's phone number, and if I had it I'd have given it, but Alan explains convincingly that anyone would have to leave their OWN number WITH the person they want to call, and leave the choice to THEM, rather than giving out their number, quoting from his own previous bad experience with jerkoff callers forcing him to change his number. Then the jerkoff guy calls and David answers, and I say he should call back later. David's still there, the caller wants him to leave, and finally he does, at 9:35, and Rick hardly shows his coming-breathing, but when I ask him "how it is" he says it's finished already, and I rather ungraciously say I have to get to John's, saying that I have to save myself for him so I can't jerk off even though the door's locked. He's sad at goodbyes.


DIARY 2960


I get in late at 9:10, thanks to the slow subway ride, and the class is bright and attractive, my cold staying enough under control so that I can talk to them, and they admit to having talked to gay people (about 10%), which is pleasant, and they've already discussed "Boys in the Band" and "Sunday, Bloody Sunday," so we can take those in context, and they ask questions about cruising, long range relationships, bisexuality, male-female role playing, the "causes" and the purposes of Mattachine and the current legal activism. Miriam Schneider asks most of the questions at the start, but it gets going on a nice level, and when 10 comes two students want to continue talking, so we go for breakfast (which Miriam pays for without my thanking her) and one tells about his straight commune where everyone gets naked and speaks whatever's on his mind, and the other talks of his brother who'd just told him that he's gay: so the three children of the pig-cop are perfect: one's on drugs, the other's gay, and the daughter's on the streets: so much for the authoritarian father. Back in class and feeling parched and dry, so a student goes to the john AND brings me a drink "Not in the same glass, please," which gets an enormous response from the class. The second is much less active, and Miriam has to prod them into questions, and it goes less well than the first. The third class has a number of real dolls for guys in the front row, and it's all I can do not to crotch-watch, though I figure in fairness I should TELL them that I don't PERMIT myself to show my attraction to some of them, and we discuss why they SHOULDN'T attack a gay guy who makes a pass at them, any more than they'd sock a GAL who cozied up to them when they didn't want to be approached. Some older woman got very involved in a question about gays raising a straight child who might NEVER have a chance to investigate "his gayness" and I got lost in the sauce and said I'd answer her after class, but she didn't stick around, though a gal who seemed to be active in GAA did and we rapped about things, and an older seemingly dykey woman said it was a very good, informative talk, and Miriam said she was going to take up a donation to Mattachine in my name from the classes.


DIARY 2973


Got there before 8:30, chatted with Chris Reed about what happened in Albany, and poor Don Goodwin DID walk, got an awful cold, and could hardly talk during the meeting. Randy Wicker started with rude interchanges on videotape between Weinberg and Socarides on the Midday Show, and then Weinberg answered questions and went into personal experiences and talked a blue streak until 10:15, at which time Henry said everyone could go for drinks, Arthur Warner sent many people out the door with his irate speech about---something, and I decided NOT to push the member profiles. Got the last bit of punch before the special Board of Directors meeting, and they seemed to be aiming toward getting the new quarters on Christopher Street, and want ME to write a letter to the membership about raising money for the six GAA members pummeled at the Inner Circle. I say I don't want to, but it's obvious I will, since no one else has the foggiest idea about how to write ANYTHING. It goes on and on, Arthur takes 25 minutes talking about SOMETHING in Ohio, which isn't of ANY interest to the board, there's lots of shouting and berating back and forth, and Arthur seems to be taking the opportunity of chewing everyone out, though he comes over to me to apologize for his bad-mouthing over the phone. There are lots of genital females (butcher than the males) for some reason, and I sit next to them while they insist on commenting like school kids on anything that strikes them funny, belch loudly as they drink, and talk with too-loud voices whenever it pleases them. I try to get Weinberg to tell me how I can get more active in speaking engagements, maybe getting money out of them, too, but he misunderstands and some fat female from GAA says that I can get a list of 400 homosexual organizations from them, which is not what I want at all. He's besieged by autograph seekers for his book, which is NOT being sold at discount, and he talks overly loudly, too. Carl is quite drunk, and for a bit it looks like I'll have to ride home with Bill Broberg because all the videotape equipment is going into Henry's Cadillac, but I help them in with it, and sit in the back seat, getting driven to the station at 11:45, and the subway doesn't even come until midnight, awful.


DIARY 2978


Don Goodwin calls quickly, comes to get the copy of the letter to read to GAA, and then Marc comes in to get the original, and it's good it's on one page, since his typing of the news article went to three sides, two sheets at the least. David calls to say he's not coming in, and the taller student from York College comes in to do some interviewing with someone there, and there IS no one there until Len Ebreo comes in to say that Liberation House is now defunct, but tells me about Gay Counseling, and then the two girls from last week come back in to talk about their meeting with the great Irwin Strauss, and it looks as if they might NOT be able to get their children, since Irwin states absolutely that if they know the women are gay, they don't get the kids, and they even tell me he said gay people can't adopt children! Al calls in the middle to say what a doll I am, but I say I can't talk to him, and then two guys doing prison research come in and use the library, getting help from me, and this is all interspersed with other calls about bars and gay organizations, not to mention another letter that someone keeps putting into my box, which is awkward now that David isn't coming in. The girls finally leave and the guy says I've helped him a lot, and he takes off. Len's friend meets him to help him change his third flat in a week, and I call Gay Counseling to find what the scoop is there. Then someone calls, very dense, to get information about gay jobs, and when I'm trying to clean up the Care packages and putting things away at 9:15, he comes in, wiping daintily away at his very short hair, pausing as if he's stoned, and he says "I can talk to you because you're gay, but regular guy I can't talk to, because I think he pities me." "I would have thought you would think you wanted to go to bed with him," I suggest, and he says I've hit it on the head exactly, and that's just it, but that he now wants counseling also, and I figure he'd like nothing more than to sit and talk with me for hours, but at 9:35 I say that I have to clear out and leave, and he says he'll be going, and I put out all the lights and leave the phone ringing in its cradle as I leave, too late, at 9:40.


DIARY 3000


Len's waiting outside the door when I arrive at 6:02, and he starts working on stapling a doctor's survey which I fill out about Azak. There are a few calls for lawyers and then David comes in and we talk about ballet stuff while Len works, and then a black guy comes in who talks to Irwin Strauss on the phone from the office, trying to get information about his arrest and 30 days on Riker's Island 18 years ago for allowing himself to be entrapped into groping an officer in Central Park. What a CRIME! Then there are a few more calls, and David talks to the blind guy, and makes the mistake of agreeing that he come down to the office. The whole rest of the evening is colored by that, as I adjourn into the library to staple the letters to the membership about the GAA beatings together, finding that Marc had to retype the whole letter, and there are errors in the Post transcription. Carl Bordman tries to get to feel David's leg "because he likes his voice" and he DOESN'T take David's offer to "feel" the person by holding his hand, so it's obvious that he DOES want sex, and he even says he got the girl he might marry to admit that he could have a man in bed with them for "warmth" if he wanted to have him. David answered a couple more calls, getting involved with the people, particularly an ex-belly dancer from Hicksville who wanted some gay guy to help her with her kennels for a small salary, and someone else who wanted to put something on our bulletin board. I'm being very negative toward Carl, who's interested in being introduced to whomever calls on the phone, says that HE'D be willing to give out HIS phone number if he were on the Mattachine phone staff, and that he thinks people should touch each other more. Yes, they should, I agree, but they should only touch whom they WANT to touch, and I don't let him touch me, either, cowardly using John as an excuse. We take him out afterward to the bus stop, after finding that the uptown on West End goes only to 73rd and Broadway, then to Broadway and uptown, and then David and I chat before I get on the subway to get to John's, and the jerkoff guy didn't call again, I got bar info for Laird, and finished proofreading Marc's mistake-filled transcription of the new Constitution.


DIARY 3013


Think the numbers go UP instead of down, and think it's in a poor section of Christopher until I find my error, and ring bells at random before Marc Williams comes down to open the door. Charles Mountain looks awful but manages to keep up his stream of dull shit, we debate what to do about the areas and I'm voted down about not wanting to break up the meeting area even WITH temporary partitions (and they DON'T want us hanging out the windows drawing crowds in, which I think is sad). Arthur makes a long funereal tribute to Bob Milne, who looks acutely uncomfortable, and Alan keeps saying how HUNGRY he is, and there's good eye contact with John Hood and Dick Smith and Don Goodwin, and the boring meeting finally breaks up at 10 after I make un-listened-to reservations for 6 at the Horn of Plenty, including the last four and Marc Williams. Wait for a VERY long time for the food, finally getting served at 10:45, and I have a half-bottle of Beaujolais, which keeps my head of booze up, and the smothered chicken is quite tasty, but maybe only because I'm starved. We talk about how we're going to clamp down on Arthur when Don is president, how to ease Irwin Strauss into retirement, how to publicize the bequest and all its money so that the membership won't think we're rich and don't need contributions, how to get more interest in the organization, political matters, ideas about getting furniture contributed from a friend of Henry Messer's, what to do with the areas, and the personalities of everyone involved, and everyone's making jokes about the others, and finally Alan says they play something like cutthroat canasta, and love pinochle, and I think I'd like to join them, thinking of the long evenings when John isn't going to be around through the month of May. The new place needs lots of work, but it's going to be nice, particularly with the now-necessary air conditioning, and we're hoping for lots of off-the-street socializing, many committee uses of the library and meeting rooms, much individual counseling, and lots of printing material going out: I hope they're right, and this will be the turning point for the organization: a GREAT time to write that ARTICLE for Porcelain!!