Dear Reader,
Sonya Teclai, our social media director, asked me the other day what it was like growing up gay in the South in the 1950s and ’60s. “And living to tell about it,” was the understood part of her question that didn’t need voicing. I thought deeply about it, and first, of course, I told her that I always knew about my same-sex attraction. Every gay person I’ve known has a similar story. But what did that mean?
That’s the tricky part for children, I think. We had no role models we could point to. Some gay teachers in school, of course, about whose lives we knew close to nothing. Not always helpful. I promise to revisit this topic, but please let me jump ahead and tell you about a break-through moment.
I graduated from high school and started college in 1968. It was a crazy year that I sometimes think I mostly missed. The Tet Offensive began on my birthday, February 5, which is sometimes the Lunar New Year’s Day. Then Dr. King, Bobby Kennedy, the Democratic Party Convention in Chicago that summer, it was a fraught year that I was just skimming my way through.
I used to say I had no idea there was a war going on in Vietnam until I got off to college. That’s impossible, of course. Even though I was mostly concerned about whether I was wearing the right shoes, I also had to register for the draft and make certain I had my student deferment. Other than that, I slumbered through much of it. But something else of importance to my life occurred in 1968: Mart Crowley’s THE BOYS IN THE BAND opened Off Broadway.
I wouldn’t have seen the play, even though I did get to New York at least once a year in those days. I stayed with an aunt and uncle in New Jersey, and New York City was only a bus ride away. And I took that bus. But I didn’t really know what I was looking for. But then there was the movie, released in 1969. And it featured the entire theater cast. I’ve always believed that movie is as close to the play (which I couldn’t have seen) as any film could possibly be.
My point is, I saw the movie in 1969, when I was nineteen and ready to learn about what it means to be a gay man. And Mart Crowley and his glorious cast gave me a window into a life that I wanted. Not the angst. Not the self-loathing. But these boys taught me about urban gay men—that they can have loves, and friendships, and partnerships; that they can live in nicely-decorated apartments with a Marlene Dietrich poster on the wall; that they can lead authentic lives.
That was the discovery for me. And I will always be indebted to Crowley & Company for that leg up. And that’s why the fiftieth anniversary revival—closing soon—is so important to me. Thanks for reading.
Bruce
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