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Filling in the Blanks San Francisco Gay Sports Exhibit a Must-See
By
Gene Dermody "Sporting Life: GLBT Athletics and Cultural Change from the 1960s to Today" brings together the works of more than 34 photographers, 49 collections, and 28 athletic groups. Guest-curated and designed by syndicated sports writer and author Jim Provenzano, "Sporting Life" explores how San Francisco Bay Area GLBT sports have challenged homophobia and created community. From early 1970s gay softball games versus the police to the launch of the now-worldwide Gay Games, the way we play has transformed society. Today, more than 4,000 openly GLBT Bay Area athletes participate annually, breaking records and defying stereotypes. "Sporting Life" can be seen daily Tuesday through Saturday 1-5 p.m at The GLBT Historical Society, 657 Mission St. San Francisco, through 2005. The Missing Color Like the Gnostic gospels, "Sporting Life" is the missing (if not heretical) chapter in San Francisco's colorful gay history. Instead of yet another victim chronology of homophobia or another tired expose of stereotypes and fetishes, the exhibit celebrates the ‘other life’ of those San Franciscans who shaped an era, their “Sporting Life”. The exhibit adds new dimension to the profile of those San Francisco revolutionaries: those idealists who stood in Market St. traffic on election day with big "Vote Harvey Milk" signs, those early Twin Peaks ‘guppies’ (gay yuppies) who transformed the Castro into the real "Tales of the City," and those devastated citizens who for the first time in their lives ‘lost it’ in the White Night Riot. Who knew that such a vast number of them were also so happily engaged in such subversive activities as bowling, softball, and basketball as early as the ‘60s?
A bust of Gay Games founder Tom Waddell made in 1987; a case of personal items includes two discuses which Waddell used in the 1968 Olympics. Heritage Complete It is Provenzano’s devotion to detail, a careful showcasing of a remarkable collection of pride and joy, that finally lays waste the myth of hopeless sissies and proves that there were always ‘athletes in our midst.’ It is academic that there were always some athletes who were gay, or that the locker room was never all that heterosexual. However, it is the emotional impact of actually seeing the physical evidence, the personal sports memorabilia of our community so proudly displayed, which will connect with a much wider audience and secure this exhibit’s place in GLBT history. A few years ago I had a similar experience when my father died. In going through his personal belongings, I discovered a man I wish I had known better. The impact of seeing his high school medals, his basketball shirts vs. skins buddy pictures, and his WWII Navy dog tags transformed my fuzzy black and white image of him and kindled a kind of hero worship I had always reserved for others. He obviously valued these objects enough to keep them so carefully preserved for half a century. If only he had shared them with me when I was younger, our relationship would have been different. There is great power inherent in these symbols of our achievements. Similarly, this exhibit is a treasure, a legacy to our community that documents the pride, tradition, and connection we all must cherish as “our” family tree. Mixing It Up On entering the exhibit, the almost obligatory homage to the elite gay athletes who pioneered and suffered for the “cause” seems at first to overwhelm. There is the black and white photo of my absolute favorite, Dave Kopay, doing those rapid “foot-fire” drills in full gear. It was his groundbreaking book that gave me strength way back in the ‘70s when I was a nervous 140-pound rookie high school wrestling coach. If he could do it with those giants in pro football, I could surely handle a few dozen high school toughs. The challenge to excel in spite of the stereotype was also my inspiration and motivation. There are photos and items of Jerry Smith, Rudy Galindo, Greg Louganis, Billy Bean, and the tragic Glenn Burke. All are important representatives of our elite sports heritage. When these elite images are juxtaposed with the images of recreational athletes, the message of the exhibit becomes clearer and more provoking. It is precisely the spectacular diversity of sports, skill levels, body types, and athletic achievements that catches your eye and teases your testosterone laced mind. By randomly mixing the images of “guys who throw like girls” with “guys who were Olympians”, the common humanity shines proudly and validates our community’s rich and diverse athletic heritage. Instead of a few freaks at both ends of the athletic spectrum, there is a huge middle ground. How refreshingly normal! Glenn Burke “One of the more evocative items is a rare 1979 Glenn Burke Oakland Athletics baseball card. Burke, credited with inventing the "high five," had been traded to the A's from the Dodgers, largely due to homophobia. Ongoing antigay hostility and a knee injury led him soon after to leave professional baseball. Afterwards, he became a celebrated member of San Francisco gay softball teams. In 1982, he became the first pro baseball player to come out.” (--San Francisco Chronicle). I already knew Glenn was a local, a Berkeley High School super star athlete who excelled in basketball, football, and baseball. He could have made it in any professional sport he wanted, not just baseball. I vividly remember his performances in Gay Games, where his softball team took the Silver, and his basketball team took the Gold. His sheer athleticism bordered on the artistic. His team spirit was legendary, especially amongst those who ever saw him play basketball! I stared at that Oakland A’s baseball card for a while, remembering seeing him so many times so many years ago at the Eureka Valley Recreation Center Gym (soon to be renamed the Mark Bingham Memorial Gym). The classic “batter-up” black and white photo was particularly striking, that cute face with the winning smile. I wondered why there was so little of his memorabilia. There were no signed pictures, no A’s cap, and not even his glove. It seemed incongruous that such an outstanding example of what the exhibit was about was given such short shrift.
But a Google search also turned up
little. Sheepishly, I wondered if we just took him for granted or
if he was just way ahead of the times. Is it because he dared to
come down from Olympus to play with us mere mortals that his
achievements were somehow diminished? Did he ever get one of those
ubiquitous political proclamations from the Mayor? Does Berkeley
High School even acknowledge him? There is no doubt in my mind “Gay
Sports” achieved proper “athletic” recognition when Glenn Burke
turned heads at the first Gay Games.
This case includes items from the SF Fog rugby team, Jerry Smith NFL cards, and a 49ers team-signed helmet loaned by former trainer Lindsy McLean. My Heroes As I make my way past the GLBT Sports Timelin in the entrance way, I am flattered by a sizeable photo of my 1982 Gay Games wrestling match with Peter Gomez in the same flow as another South Bay Latino athlete, Rudy Galindo. Peter was a brawler with a missing front tooth to prove it. He had a rough life on the streets of San Francisco and wrestling was his personal revenge on privileged Anglo guppies like me who thought we were tough.
On the opposite wall is a photo finish of perennial flash Earl Bryant with flared nostrils and puffed cheeks racing like a thoroughbred across the finish line. Then there is the rest of the pantheon of track stars: Carmen Morrison, Rick Thoman, Bernard Turner, Nancy Frost, Norma Jean Lopez, and Frank Demby who set Gay Games standards for almost a decade. San Francisco Track & Field was one of the earlier stalwart Team San Francisco teams that became the model for camaraderie and spirit. Rick Thoman deserves kudos for long managing that star-studded team as well as competing as an elite level himself. Also on the wall opposite the Timeline adjacent the Track & Field is a rather large unremarkable black & white photo of a soccer player leading some guys in a warm-up. His back is to us but there is no mistaking the “soccer legs” of Josh Persky. I fondly remember Josh from the late '80s from the Muscle System where we both trained. He was both a fireplug and a sparkplug, one of the original founders of the San Francisco Spikes, and a real sweetheart of a guy. Together with Carlo Togni, the Spikes were the creators and always the class act of Gay Soccer.
In between Earl Bryant and Josh Persky
another enlarged black and white photo shows Tom Waddell and San
Francisco supervisor/state assemblyman Mark Leno at a an early ‘80s
‘Gay Run’. Today Mark is using his athletic skills twisting arms in
Sacramento for a Gay Marriage bill. Watch out, Arnie!
Part of the Martial Arts, Boxing, Judo, and Wrestling display.
Across the room is the rainbow belts display of the International Association of Gay & Lesbian Martial Artists (IAGLMA), which gives new meaning to the perception of “Black & Blue” belts. In a tournament photo, Allen Wood stands out head and shoulders tall in his crisp white gi. He is the model warrior, a new age Siegfried slaying the dragons of stereotype. Allen worked many years for Team San Francisco, IAGLMA, and the Federation of Gay Games, especially in the area of drug testing policy. Allen is the only doctor to ever successfully relieve the pinched nerve in my back. In the corner between Martial Arts and Wrestling is Basketball, and the photo that catches my eye has Tony Jasinski, the “Godfather” of Gay Basketball coaching one of his many championship teams. Tony and I go way back. We were part of the Team San Francisco contingent that in 1987 “persuaded” San Francisco Parks & Recreation to let the “fags” use the Eureka Valley Recreation Center (EVC) in the Castro. Since that time, volleyball, indoor soccer, basketball, wrestling, and martial arts have flourished in that facility. We also both served on the EVC Advisory Board which pushed having the gym renamed in Mark Bingham’s honor after 9/11. Another basketball player in the picture was one of the handsomest men to ever play basketball, Mike Gray. I would sometimes watch him play from the wrestling room which overlooks the gym. In the opposite corner is Aquatics. San Francisco is blessed with about three GLBT groups, only the overcrowded pools keep them from growing even more. There is Duke Dahlin’s English Channel Swim recognition, the Tsunami team photos, and tons of medals. My eye is drawn to a small photo with Rick Windes in it. Rick was one of the early Tsunami and International Gay & Lesbian Aquatics (IGLA) competitors who also found time to coach and serve. Rick and I served together on Team San Francisco for years. He was a big guy, a sweetheart, almost a “Yogi Bear” before the term became chic fetish. By chance I saw what had been donated to the exhibition by Rick’s partner. I was literally blown away by the sheer number of medals, recognitions, awards, not only from IGLA, the Gay Games, and Tsunami, but from U.S. Masters Swimming and FINA. The collection could be an exhibit in itself. Here was a true athlete who took his leadership responsibilities seriously. He made a great transition from elite competitor, to coach, to leader. A year before he died, he was at my home with IGLA’s Charlie Carson still planning and writing policy for IGLA and the Gay Games. Rick’s legacy is the success story of Team San Francisco, Tsunami, IGLA, and the Gay Games.
Nestled between Martial Arts and Basketball is Wrestling which I purposely left until last. In the display case there are old singlets, T-shirts, photos, medals, and posters. Some of it my own personal stuff. My history with Golden Gate Wrestling (GGWC) goes back to Gay Games I, so I knew the display would be an emotional one for me. The photos are dotted with friends and lovers, including two of my partners whom are no longer with us. One single photo, peering at me from behind those horned rimmed black glasses is the guy I will always have to answer to, Don Jung. A California InterScholastic Federation (CIF) high school state champ, a standout at Chabot College, Don went on to be the coach of San Francisco’s Mission High School (one of the city’s toughest schools), which is just four blocks east of ground zero Castro & 18th. Streets. Don was all this before the first Gay Games while openly living in Oakland with his partner Ben Olsen. Don had already earned the respect of the Bay Area wrestling community when he drew the attention of Tom Waddell who charged him with starting Golden Gate Wrestling. Striken with AIDS, Don died a day after his Gay Games II matches in 1986, probably a suicide given the prognosis of the day. I had totally avoided all coaching and organizing responsibilities for GGWC since leaving New Jersey and high school coaching. Gay Games had blown me out of the closet with a vengeance. Selfishly, I wanted the competition and recognition, and knew I would have to sacrifice that quest if I had to coach. But during those last inevitable days Don charged me with continuing GGWC in the tradition he had established. At the time I grudgingly accepted. It took years, but I learned that there was a more enduring satisfaction in serving others. Instead of my five individual Gay Games medals, I can count dozens of GGWC medals. But more importantly I can count hundreds of men and women for whom the GGWC experience made a difference. Under my breath I ask the photo on the wall, "How did we do, Don?” If you stare long enough at Don’s photo (taken the day before he died), there is a smile under that moustache that I had never noticed before.
About the author Gene Dermody has coached and competed at every Gay Games, served on the Board of Team San Francisco, served as President of the Federation of Gay Games, served on the Board of the Bay Area Sports Organizing Committee for the San Francisco 2012 Olympic Bid, and numerous other organizations. http://www.dermodynamics.com/my_home_page.html Additional articles
June 25, 2005 |
