The Boys in the Band

Last night I took a trip down Memory Lane and watched the ground breaking movie (for its time) "The Boys in the Band." This was a movie I rented from Netflix. I was reluctant to watch it at first but now I am glad I did.

I first saw "Boys in the Band" at the Midtown Theater in downtown Philadelphia in 1970. At that time it was the first major motion picture with an openly gay story line and characters. I remember how nervous I was going to the movie theater on Chestnut Street with my lover (now called "partner") of five years, Bill (yes, we're still together.) The movie theater was right across the street from the bank where I worked. As hard as it is to believe now I remember part of my nervousness was taking a chance that someone from where I worked would see me going into this movie theater that was showing a gay movie. I decided to take the chance because it was on a Saturday afternoon and the bank was closed and thus none of my co-workers would be at work. Even though I had already come out to my family and friends five years previously, I was still somewhat in the closet at work. Maybe I had one foot out the closet door.

In the cool confines of the Midtown Theater, Bill and I anxiously awaited the start of the movie. Then it started. I have to say we were somewhat shocked because all the characters in the film were realistically portrayed. Bill and I knew people like the overtly effeminate, mincing, nellie queen Emory to the self-hating homosexual Michael. From the two "normal" acting lovers Hank and Larry. And who didn't know an regal, sharp tongued queen like Harold? We all did. It was a revelation to see people we knew in our real life portrayed on the big screen for all the world to see. The straight world. And of course there isn't a gay guy who doesn't know someone like Alan, the so-called straight guy who doesn't know what he wants. Ironically, my first sexual experience was with such a man. A married man with two children who seduced me (yes, at one time I was the neophyte.)

Looking at the movie last night I was now embarrassed by the nellie antics of Emory. Sure, there are still gay guys who act like him but there are very politically incorrect in today's gay liberation environment. Also, the overall tone of the story which is about Michael, the self-hating gay man who doesn't want to be gay but if he is he wants to drag down his closeted former college roommate down with him. Back then (the 60's) there was enough homophobia to make just about any gay man hate himself for what he was.

But what was enjoyable about watching the movie again was the perfection of Leonard Frey's character, Harold. Leonard Frey to me was one of those much underrated character actors who never got his full due during his lifetime. But he did accomplish one thing, he had the one perfect role which was of Harold, the "pockmarked, ugly, Jew fairy." Leonard was magnificent.

The main character, Michael was played by Kenneth Nelson. I never heard of him before this movie and I haven't heard of him since. I think he grossly overplayed his role but maybe that is what he was supposed to do. I found watching his acting this time to be somewhat painful. Probably the reason I didn't feel that way when I first saw this movie 39 years ago was that everything was so new that I forgave actors who chewed up the scenery during their big scenes.

This movie had so many memorable quotes. Some of which are:


Michael: What's so fucking funny?
Harold: Life. Life's a goddamn laugh riot.
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Michael: What is he - a psychiatrist or a hairdresser?
Donald: Actually he's both. He shrinks my head and then combs me out.
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Emory: Who do you have to fuck to get a drink around here?
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[Looking in the mirror]
Michael: There's one thing to be said about masturbation: you certainly don't have to look your best.
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Michael: [sings] "Forget your troubles, c'mon get happy! You better chase all your cares away!" What's more boring than a queen doing a Judy Garland imitation?
Donald: A queen doing a Bette Davis imitation.
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[to the Cowboy, Harold's "gift"]
Hank: Would you mind waiting over there with the gifts?
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Michael: You're stoned and you're late. You were supposed to arrive at this location at eight thirty dash nine o'clock.
Harold: What I am Michael is a 32 year-old, ugly, pock marked Jew fairy, and if it takes me a little while to pull myself together, and if I smoke a little grass before I get up the nerve to show my face to the world, it's nobody's god damned business but my own. And how are you this evening?
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Harold: I keep my grass in the medicine cabinet in the Band Aid box. Somebody told me it's the safest place. If the cops arrive, you can always lock yourself in the bathroom and flush it down the john.
Hank: Very cagey.
Harold: Makes more sense to where I was keeping it: in the oregano jar in the spice rack. I kept forgetting it and accidentally turning my hateful mother on with a salad. But I think she liked it. No matter what meal she comes over for, even if it was breakfast, she says
[in his mother's voice]
Harold: "Let's have a salad!"
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Harold: You're a sad and pathetic man. You're a homosexual and you don't want to be, but there's nothing you can do to change it. Not all the prayers to your god, not all the analysis you can buy in all the years you've go left to live. You may one day be able to know a heterosexual life if you want it desperately enough. If you pursue it with the fervor with which you annihilate. But you'll always be homosexual as well. Always Michael. Always. Until the day you die.
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Michael: Let's do this again real soon.
Harold: Yeah, how about a year from Shavuos?

Well said.

A Day at the Beach

Today I decided to visit the beach in Rehoboth Beach. I live so close but rarely go to the beach. One of the reasons is that I am susceptible to a precancerous skin condition so I don't lie on the beach anymore seeking that sexy, healthy tan. But I do love breathing in the sea air and walking the boardwalk on a beautiful summer day like today.


On my way in I took along some of my neighbor's backyard vegetable bounty to deliver to a friend who has a place in Rehoboth Beach. This is a friend that I had dinner with last night. When I arrived, I noticed that he was edgy. Something was on his mind. It didn't take too long to find out when I asked to take a picture of him and his friend. He was angry and demanded "Why do you have a blog? Why do you do it?" I could see he was very agitated. What was his problem? I soon found out. His picture was on my blog. Now why is this a problem? He said he thought my blog was only read by a few of our friends, he didn't know the world had access to reading my blog. My friend isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. I explained to him that anyone could read the blog. Then he demanded again "Why do you write it?!" This took me back a bit but I responded that I write about my life. He quickly got to his source of agitation; he didn't want me putting his picture on my blog. His friend also stated the same request. I told them that wasn't a problem. I would not put pictures of them on any of my future blog postings.


I left this rather uncomfortable encounter with my friend to take a walk on the boardwalk in Rehoboth Beach. Today was a perfect summer day for the beach. A gentle breeze flowed in from the ocean. Hundreds of colorful umbrellas dotted the beach. The sounds of the sea gulls blended in with the gentle rush of the waves and the distant voices of the families sunning themselves on the beach completed the picture of summertime fun at the beach. While walking I found that I was still bothered by my friend's request. Why would it bother them that their pictures appeared on my blog? Then it hit me. It bothered them for the same reason as it bothers many of the gay men and women who travel from Washington D. C. to Rehoboth Beach and have their pictures appear on the Internet website of the local gay publication "Letters." They don't want their pictures on the website for the world to see. Someone might think they're gay. They might have to come out of the closet. As side note, I think it's ironic that many of the same people who don't want the world to know their gay are usually the gayest acting and their family, friends and co-workers already know they're gay. No one would be surprised by the revelation that they are gay. It is old news.

Yes friends, that's probably why my friends don't want their picture on my blog. I identify myself as gay and they don't want that association. Personally I am against outing anybody; gay, straight or bisexual. However, those gays who continue to stay in the closet are the gays who permit the oppression of gay men and women to continue. That's why I decided to come out in 1963, way before it was fashionable to come out. I've paid a heavy price for coming out. In fact, just tonight my partner told me a friend of his will not continue his close friendship with him as long as he "continues to live with the devil." That would be me. I am the "devil" he refers to. Why? Because I do not apologize for being gay and I am not ashamed of being gay. I never have been ashamed of being gay, unlike many of my gay friends many of whom are still in the closet. The simple fact is they don't have the moral courage to come out and be who they are. They would rather have their oppressors define them. That's more convenient for them. They are embarrassed and ashamed of being gay.

I'm not one of those gays who are in your face with "I'm queer, I'm here, get used to it." But, by the same token I don't hide my sexual identity. either. I don't make excuses, I don't substitute she for he when talking about events in my life. In a way I feel sorry for my friends who have permitted their oppressors to define their lives. Ironically, some of my friends who are deepest in the closet are the most sexually active even in their advanced years. The word that comes to mind is hypocrite. I think it is ironic on the 40th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots that was the beginning to tossing the yoke of oppression off of gays, there are still self-hating gays who permit that yoke to stay on their necks.


This week we had one of the prominent family values politicians, Governor Mark Sanford of South Carolina come out and admit that he couldn't keep his pants zipper up. Sanford, one of the first and most vocal critics of former President Bill Clinton's morality, fessed up to being unfaithful to his wife and children by his affair with an Argentine woman named "Maria." The word that comes to mind is hypocrite. Sanford is just one of many politicians, of both parties, who have been exposed as hypocrites. Sanford is a straight political hypocrite. Then there are gay hypocrites. They are comfortable in the closet and don't want to be exposed to the sunlight of honesty because they don't have the courage to face that life. Harsh words from me but that is the way I see it. Unfortunately I know too many of these people. Most of them are very nice, respectable people but they are scared to death of the truth. They will go to their grave never saying the words "I am gay" to a straight person. Those words may cross their lips while on the prowl for a sexual conquest but never in another context. These are the type of people who would permit a "fag" joke to go unchallenged in their presence. Early in my life I used to let the "fag" jokes go unchallenged until one day I had enough and after the joke was told I said "I'm gay and I don't see the humor in your offensive joke." I still remember the look on that individual's face when he heard what I said. He literally was speechless. As the Master Card commercial says, "Priceless."

I may be many things but one thing I am not is a hypocrite. I'll honor my friend's request and not put their pictures in any of my future blog postings. But one thing I want to let those friends know is that my blog postings are about my life. That is my honesty. If they are ashamed of their association with me because I have the word "gay" in my personal description on my blog, well then maybe they should stop being hypocrites and reevaluate their friendship with me.