I was a teenager when Dave Marston[i] killed himself in 1965.
He had been married his entire adult life; he and his wife had two teenagers. He was a court reporter, had a coveted job in State court, made good money, was well-liked and respected by his judge and his colleagues. But there were rumors that he was gay.
A couple of tough-guy bailiffs devised a strategy to find out if it was true and, if so, to expose him. One of them, over a period of weeks, pretended to be interested in a sexual relationship with Dave. Dave responded, claimed the bailiff when he reported Dave as a "deviant" to the court administration. Dave was fired and, in less than a week, everyone in the legal community knew the details of what had happened. His wife divorced him. He was not allowed to have any contact with his children.
A court reporter who owned a deposition agency took Dave on as a freelancer and would send him to report civil depositions, mostly small-time cases. Dave was an excellent reporter, conscientious and careful, polite and punctual. Many lawyers were happy to have him assigned to their depositions, but some didn’t want to be in the same room with him and told Dave’s boss never to send "the queer" to their offices. Dave barely made enough money to pay for the court-ordered child support, alimony and the rent on his modest one-bedroom furnished apartment. He worked there for two years.
One Monday morning Dave’s boss got a call from an irate client. Dave was scheduled to have been at his office at 9:00 AM for a deposition and hadn’t shown up by 9:45. Dave’s boss sent another reporter to the deposition, then called a friend.
Dave’s boss and his friend went to Dave’s apartment and had the landlord let them in. They found Dave’s dead body in his bed, covers pulled up over his shoulders, an empty prescription bottle and half a quart of vodka on the nightstand, along with a note.
You might think the bailiffs would be sorry they had hounded a man to his death, but it was said one of them told folks around the courthouse he was happy to have "rid decent people of one of those fags.”
# # #
In 2007 my three-year-old granddaughter was enrolled in a preschool class in San Francisco that had two teachers, one of whom is a lesbian. This woman and her partner have two children; their daughter was a student at the school, though not in her mother’s classroom. That same year, one of my granddaughter’s classmates was a boy whose parents are gay men.
My granddaughter would refer to Justin’s dads and Emily’s moms in the same tone of voice she used when describing what the kids had done that day at playtime in the courtyard. She and her classmates thought it far more mysterious that some kids have curly hair and some have straight. It wouldn’t have ever occurred to her that there was anything at all unusual about Justin’s or Emily’s families.
Because there isn’t.
# # #
I was born in 1950 at the end of the baby boom. I turned 60 last month which (she protests) isn’t old, though I would have believed at 30 that it is. If you’re young, you might struggle with this idea, but 1965 wasn’t that long ago. The men of my generation fought the Vietnam War. Schools were segregated, by neighborhood if not by law, in Southern California when I was a child and a teenager.
Dave Marston was the first gay person I had ever heard of, and I learned about him only because my mother was his typist and Dave's boss came to our house to tell us how he had died. The subject was simply never discussed in the white bread, middle class world I lived in. Gays and lesbians weren’t just discriminated against and mistreated and humiliated, like people of racial minorities were; they had to be invisible, they had to hide.
The society my granddaughter knows isn’t one where homosexuals have the same civil rights as every other human being (though it should be and will be someday, I hope), but it’s far better – for all its citizens – than the one Dave Marston died because of.
TIP:
Enter the amount, and click "Tip" to submit!
Rob Neukirch
Lizz Schumer
quattospeaks
jmac1949
Kerry Lauerman
jlsathre
Salon.com
Comments
R~
scanner, that's who kids learn best from, so i'm positive they got the message.
ame i: i'm glad, too. very. brava to you.
torman: you and i (and lots of others) know that it's the personal experiences that really bring these things home. thank you for telling that part of your story - and your friend's - in your comment so other people can know it. you're a gem.
gigabiting: i always cringe when i hear those comparisons about which group is being treated more hatefully, don't you? you're right: lots of ground to cover.
I'm pleased several of us have posted today on similar themes. We shouldn't stop till we win.
Rated.
dave r: it is sad. all the more reason to keep trying. thanks, man.
jon: thanks. i read and rated yours but didn't have time to comment. will get there.
amy: you're welcome, sweetie. it's a great project.
nikki: thank you (about the title). i like it, too. and those segments -- grrrrr. looking back isn't always (or even usually) so golden, is it?
blue: you're right, we are. thanks!
bobbot: thank you veru much. i'm so glad you came by.
Your story made me sick to my stomach. I could feel what was coming, and it just made me so frickin' mad. Why can't people let people be? I know it's such a child's question, but it's true. Whose business is it who I love?
When she was 4, I had to explain to my youngest daughter that we were having a party because Elisabeth and Nan had just gotten married. Worried because there was a puzzled look on her face I said,
"C, you know that girls can marry girls, right?"
She nodded her head.
"And boys can marry boys"
Again, the huge nod indicating that she totally got what I was saying.
"And you know what else, Mommy?" she said.
"What?" I said.
"Girls can marry boys, too!"
I figured if a four-year old can figure it all out, why can't everyone else?
trilogy: it was and is terribly sad. and pointless and useless and ... well, you already get it, i know. thank you.
geezerchick: she is, for which i am so thankful. i hope she never personally knows a story like this.
flw: i know what you mean about the four-year-olds. why does it have to be any more complicated than that?? and the anger -- i tried to play it down, and the sadness, in the piece, but sometimes i want to tell a person this story, take hold of both their shoulders, look into their face and say, "do you get it that this man died? that he's gone from this world? for just being who he was?
Thanks for this, femme.
thanks, conniemack. now, them in hiding, that would be comeuppance, wouldn't it? i think we ought to give them their own country, where they can all go live together and agree about how awful the rest of us are.
psyche: thanks, friend. i know, the 'friendly' tag can chafe a little, can't it? and it surely doesn't mean there aren't ignorant asshats around. grrrrrr.
Shame-filled is a horrible way to live. How different Dave's life might have been had he lived in a world where he could live an open, honest life without petty and fear-mongering hatred.
Thank you!
Your granddaughter must be very proud of you
I wonder how many similar stories to yours has been played out since the 1960's to the present. We probably know of so few.
This is a kindly post, and one that shows us the importance of equality and understanding.
Great piece.
Rated for beauty!
While my mother was a difficult woman in so many ways, I am grateful that she was a sixties fag hag. Her BFF, an interior decorator, was at our house all the time. My mother would feed him like a king. We never ate that way when it was just us. One time I got sent to my room for helping myself to a tray of finger sandwiches she'd made for him. They'd go antiquing and to art openings and all sorts of stuff my dad did not want to do. There's a picture of C on mom's dresser to this day.
This is a fitting post as the Prop 8 trial winds up here in Calif. The fact that the Prop 8 supporters couldn't put on even the semblance of a decent argument for their side speaks volumes about how morally bankrupt and illogical their position is. I hope that we can look back soon and wonder that in our lifetime there weren't always equal rights for gays.
bigotry and discrimination makes no sense to the younger generation (for the most part). thank God for that. Such a sad story, but thank-you for posting it.
If we all remembered that we are simply human...
"One of them, over a period of weeks, pretended to be interested in a sexual relationship with Dave. "
Details.
BTW, I was out by 1961.
Luckily, chunks of the world are turning corners. Thanks for this.
nana: i know what you mean about worrying. i think that means we just have to be careful not to let our guards down.
denver: thanks for the thoughtful comment. lots of us have men like those bailiffs in our families, sadly.
grif: thanks so much. from me to my granddaughter is two generations. i hope it doesn't take many more.
ourbiggayborhood: your comment says in two short paragraphs what my essay told in 800 words. thank you for sharing it with me and the people who read this piece. nice to meet you.
z bitch: i'm glad you thought it was good. my granddaughter and i have a *serious* mutual admiration society. ;;
scarlett: i might just love the new editor a little myself, friend. ;-)
thanks for insightful comment and for being such a careful reader. when something happens like what happened to dave, it tears society's fabric, too.
gary: i'm so honored by your compliment, and let me say i agree wholeheartedly about owl! pure awesomeness. your dad must have been a remarkable man of his generation. ignorance and knee-jerk reactions were far more the norm of that time.
john blu: i can only hope we are. thanks, guy.
sparking: thank you thank you for the "beauty" part! xoxo to you.
greenheron: it's so different depending on the geographical place you live, i think. i'm guessing you and your parents lived in a big city (?) where maybe gay men didn't have to hide. i so appreciate your taking the time to tell us your mom's and her bff's story.
silkstone: i hope so, too. thanks for reminding us about the Prop 8 trial being near its end. i'm encouraged, even if it goes the wrong way, by the polling data since that god-awful election. the fight won't end.
sophieh: little by little, indeed. or, as anne lamott said, 'bird by bird.' thanks so much for reading this.
maria: i have to remind myself that there are people like your friends who managed to live through the witch-hunts and still have a semblance of the life they deserved. thank you for telling a little of their story here.
doloresflores: you're so right - it's the young people who would look at what happened to dave with horror who give us hope. i'm so jealous you got to sit in and listen. wow. i wish i'd been there.
matt: thanks, matt. sad it was, for everyone. thanks for coming by, friend.
leonde: that's it, the exactly right word. thanks for the compliment.
vanessa: ah, such wise words. and from a latina? (i just couldn't resist a jibe at those senators who met their match in sonja sotomayor.) i heart you, my friend from PR.
fusunA: one is too many, you're so right. and there were, sadly, so many more. thank you.
sixty: i know -- we're sixty-sisters! thanks for the reminder that there were more horrors forced on gay folks. i'm surprised they authorities didn't think they could remove their "affliction" by surgical means. gah.
bell: you describe precisely what will solve this: the next generations (my granddaughter, your grandchildren when they come along) seeing sexual orientation as an ordinary, normal human condition. i'm stealing "Fundies." that's just too good.
bea: that's it: the not-so-good old days. in lots more ways than this piece describes, too. thanks!
ann: i hope so, too, dear friend. i truly do.
trig: i think you're pretty cool yourself, KC man. i'm agreeing with you that seeing hopeful change makes me more hopeful. thanks for coming by.
david Ehrenstein: sorry, but since this wasn't reported in the news and i didn't contact any of the people who were directly involved in this situation before i wrote this up, it's essentially hearsay, so i was deliberately vague about the details. in fact, i'm not positive of the year; it's just my best guess.
lea: you're right. it was a truly awful thing. on every level, for every person. thanks for reading and commenting, lea.
bonnie: thanks for leaving the link.
variousartists: you describe the terrible consequences for some of denying who they are. i'm glad you see the other side of the story, my granddaughter's world, where there is hope and acceptance. thanks for reading it. it's good to meet you.
happygolucky432: thanks for telling the story. i'm sure that stuff still goes on. i only hope it's less frequent in the future until it doesn't exist at all. thanks for leaving your thoughtful comment and for visiting my blog for this piece.
I don't think you ever saw this one of mine, but I think it might resonate. Euloy for a Lost Friend
don't sweat the typo. i actually thought the new OS s/w might let me fix it, but noooooooo. xoxo
As always yours is a very well-written and thoughtful post. I swear, the argument about homosexuality is the dumbest argument in the world. I consider myself to be fairly informed...I just don't get it.