THIRTY-SIX YEARS AGO

Image: faculty.uml.edu/sgallagher/milk

Today marks the thirty-sixth anniversary of former Supervisor Dan White’s murder of Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk in their offices at City Hall. Gary Murakami and I marched that night in the silent candlelight parade from the Castro to Civic Center.

I saw the opening of Gus Van Sant’s superb film Milk at the Castro Theatre six years ago last night. It really managed to capture the time and brought back so many bittersweet memories!

I had bought two tickets online for the seven o’clock show and gave one to Tom, a tenor at Grace, but there were so many people that I never did find him. But I’m sure he went. I sat in the middle of the front row of the balcony, which is usually closed.

From my vantage point I was able to see several other acquaintances from a distance, including one who doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore. But that just added to the evening’s internal drama.

The film was brilliant in so many ways: the acting, the screenplay, the direction, cinematography, music, editing. I was overwhelmed. Sean Penn, James Franco, Emile Hirsch, Josh Brolin, Diego Luna, and Alison Pill, as well as others, were simply wonderful in their roles. Sean Penn, however, was in a class by himself.

Of course, typical of me, I noted several factual inaccuracies. They were perfectly fine and in no way detracted from the overall effect. I was amused, though, to see the Chapel of Grace at Grace Cathedral —with its marvelous Samuel Yellin wrought iron gates— depicted as a Roman Catholic parish for Dan White’s son’s christening. Robert Hillsborough’s name was mentioned at least twice. The movie stated he was murdered in the Castro. That’s a slight inaccuracy. I knew Robert. We were involved briefly. He was murdered at a fast food place on South Van Ness and 18th, which is the heart of the Mission and not the Castro. But that’s beside the point. His hate-murder did arouse the entire city just before the Gay Freedom Day Parade in 1977, and I went to his funeral in the full nave at Grace Cathedral, and may have even sung in the choir.

I hadn’t realized that Harvey Milk’s Hispanic lover Jack hanged himself. That was almost too much for me to take, because of the association with Gary Murakami.

Maureen Dowd’s column in the New York Times on Sunday November 23, 2008 referred to Dianne Feinstein’s involvement on that tragic day. She had discovered Milk’s body, and then was the one who announced the double tragedy to the Press, and as President of the Board of Supervisors, Feinstein succeeded the murdered mayor.

Maureen Dowd wrote:

Dianne Feinstein is not sure she’ll ever be able to watch the movie “Milk,” even though she’s in it.

There is 1978 footage of a stricken Feinstein in the opening minutes of the new Gus Van Sant biopic of Harvey Milk, her colleague on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors and the first openly gay elected official in American history. (Sean Penn soars as Milk.)

“I was the one who found his body,” the California senator told me Friday, on route from the airport to her home in San Francisco. “To get a pulse, I put my finger in a bullet hole. It was a terrible, terrible time in the city’s history.”

The movie, chronicling the rancorous California fight of gay activists against church-backed forces in the ’70s to prevent discrimination against gays, is opening amid a rancorous California fight of gay activists against church-backed forces to prevent discrimination against gays.

Maureen Dowd’s entire column is worth reading.

(Please refer to my postings “Jury Duty” 11/12/08 and “California State Proposition 8” 11/6/08.)

JURY DUTY

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Continuing last week’s discussion of civic affairs, I spent the day at the Hall of Justice in San Francisco. I was called to jury duty. This may have been the sixth or seventh time I’ve been summoned. I guess after thirty-five years in SF, that’s not excessive. Come to think of it, I don’t recall how many times I’ve been called, but I’ve actually been on six or seven juries over the years. Twice I’ve been jury foreman. And all but one case reached a verdict. With the added factor that federal employees are paid their full salaries while on jury duty, there’s a decent chance I may be selected for this case provided my name is drawn for voir dire. If so, I’ll have to reschedule some Kaiser appointments for next week.

I was impressed with the two slickly produced orientation videos played for us prospective jurors. That was something new from the last time I was at the Hall of Justice.

On the whole, my experience with the jury system is a variation of Winston Churchill’s comment about democracy: that it’s highly inefficient… but better than all the other options.

Sometimes juries reach questionable verdicts. A few weeks ago my boss at work put out various donuts and sweets with coffee. Among these were packages of Hostess Twinkies. I took one, but probably won’t eat it. I took it as a souvenir. I couldn’t help but think of Dan White’s voluntary manslaughter verdict in his murder case for assassinating Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk. The defense had claimed that former Supervisor White’s mental capacity had been diminished by a sugar rush – from Hostess Twinkies!! It was called the “Twinkie Defense” in the local press.

Months later on May 21, 1979, I exited the Opera House after going to a comedy show by Peter Schickele, aka P.D.Q. Bach. The scene was surreal. Smoke was everywhere. Sirens were screaming. It seemed like dozens of police cars were on fire. The streets were packed with rowdy, violent demonstrators chased by police. The Dan White verdict had just been announced. Chaos surrounded City Hall. The reaction-riot was called “White Night.”

The thirtieth anniversary of the Moscone–Milk murders is coming up this Thanksgiving Day. Life occasionally delivers mixed messages.