Harvey Milk and George Moscone

Tonight we saw Milk.  The first two minutes were as emotional an introduction to any film I have ever seen.

My reaction to the film is a reflection of the quality of the movie.  It is also a response from living through those times.

It was powerful and moving. Everything said about Sean Penn's outstanding performance is true.

The city of Madison adopted its equal opportunity ordinance protecting all individuals regardless of sexual orientation or sexual preference in the spring or summer of 1976.

Unlike Dade County, Florida, Minneapolis, or Eugene, Oregon, despite our best efforts to bait Anita Bryant, we could not lure her to Madison.  

June  1977 was the last time I saw San Francisco Mayor George Moscone. It was probably Friday June 17 at the conclusion of a hard week of work.

Moscone, U.S. Conference of Mayors President, Ken Gibson from Newark, and  Mayor John Rousakis of Savannah were at the hotel swimming pool.

Gibson and I were in the water, Moscone and Rousakis sunned themselves on lounge chairs when a young photographer from the Tuscon Citizen appeared. He had been trying to get pictures of mayors not working and he had his victims. I spotted him and alerted the others. Gibson and I simply turned our backs to his camera lens.

Moscone was exhausted since every crazed Tusconian with a San Francisco connection had called his hotel room the previous night. Moscone simply draped a towel over his face.

Rousakis did not care and did not move.

The kid snapped a few pictures and walked over to Rousakis. He asked for names. The mayor pointed to Moscone and then himself, "He is Michael Blandic, the new mayor of Chicago, and I am Maynard Jackson, the mayor of Atlanta." (Jackson left, Rousakis right)

Mayor Moscone and Harvey Milk were assassinated on Monday November 27, 1978. The moment hearing of the tragedy and seeing Dianne Feinstein on the news announcing their deaths was as real last night as it was that day.

On Tuesday November 28, 1978 I made reservations for San Francisco. That night our city council met. We had ended the practice of opening the meetings with a formal prayer and instead rotated among the council members who would begin each session with some thoughts of their own. Alderman Jim Yeadon began with words memorializing the two slain leaders. Two years earlier, as a citizen serving on the Equal Opportunities Commission, Jim was instrumental in the adoption of Madison's ordinance protecting gay rights. From the Wisconsin State Journal Friday December 12, 2008:

The assassinations of Milk and Moscone marked a poignant moment for Yeadon, who asked to open the first council meeting after the slayings with a remembrance.

"I get shivers when I think about it," he recalls. "I said, 'Yesterday there were three openly gay elected officials in the country. Today there are two. And I don't know how many good mayors there were in the country, but today the world is one the less.' Then I asked people to bow their heads and pray and give their thoughts to the people in San Francisco. I was almost crying. It really brought it home."

On Wednesday November 29, 1978 I flew to San Francisco where I caught up with some friends from Madison in a city numb with grief.

to be continued

Comments

[Molly]

In a city still rocked by the Jonestown murders - the murder of Milk & Moscone put us into a grief tailspin.

I was working at Mt. Zion Hospital - one block north of Geary and Divisadero on the oncology floor. Jim Jones temple was one block away. Many family members of co-workers were lost in that tragedy.

Then this.

I seriously considered moving back to Madison.

But I didn't. We all pulled together and supported each other in our grief. I will never forget that time.

I will also never forget Dianne Feinstein - and the incredibly strong woman she was/is. I had an opportunity to meet her - when her first husband (Dr. Feinstein) was hospitalized and we helped her bring him home to die.

There are no words to describe how grateful the city was to have her steady hand.