A few days later, Freddie, Janet, Deb, and I were on our way to our first Mattachine meeting. It was warm for December and under usual conditions I would have left my wool coat unbuttoned. But I was so comfortable walking through the Village dressed like myself announcing to the world what I was. Freddie wore her full outfit, black jeans, a red and black lumberjack shirt and a pair of black cowboy boots. Janet wore cigarette pants and blouse and Deb wore—well, I’m not sure what it was—kind of some shapeless pants and her Mickey Mouse tee shirt.
The theater where the meeting was being held was close, a downtown theater or an off Broadway theater as they were calling more and more of the downtown theaters these days. We met at the corner of Sixth Avenue and Eight Street and walked over.
“So, what’d your friend think of renting space to a bunch of—us?” Deb asked
“A bunch of us? What’s that s’posed to mean?” Frankie said.
“Nothing! Just a lot won’t you know.”
“He just wanted to make sure the group wasn’t a communist meeting,” I told them. “He doesn’t have anything personally against communists, but” he said, “communists come with a lot of excess baggage that can give the theater problems.”
“So, what’d ya tell them?” Freddie asked. “That we’re a bunch of church ladies so he wouldn’t get scared.”
“No. I had to tell the truth since this group was all about going public. I told it was a group of—” I lowered my voice— “homosexuals. And he was fascinated. Said some connected to the theater might want to join us.”
We crossed Sheridan Square and went up a few more blocks and turned down some side streets until we came to the theater building. We walked up the long thin set of steps to the door of the room where the first New York Mattachine Meeting would begin. We’d been quiet since Sheridan Square. I wasn’t if anyone else could feel it, but me, but there seemed to be something momentous and terrifying happening that afternoon and it seemed to demand silence, the kind of inward silence you try to maintain when you enter a great cathedral. The aura chokes you so that you can’t speak, and a kind of hopeful fear embraces your whole body. That’s what I felt walking my last few steps up that splintery staircase.
Freddie-Faye, Janet and Deb piled onto the landing behind me. They weren’t careful about the clump of their cowboy boots against the wood. I don’t think they knew we were heading toward something very important.
“So, this where the meeting is?” Freddie-Faye asked me, in a loud voice almost jolting me off the rickety staircase.
“Yeah, I gave Sam and Tony keys so they may already be here setting up,” I said.
O the landing Deb wrapped her arms around me, but I kicked her away. I didn’t want to look gay. Then I laughed to myself. I was dressed in my butchiest outfit: tie, vest, ironed creases in my jeans and I was going to a gay meeting that would not be secret. How much more gay could I look? But a girl hanging on my arm in public was going too far.
Freddie-Faye whipped out a switchblade from her back pocket and snapped it open toward me. I jumped back.
“For luck,” Freddie-Faye proudly announced with a smile.
“For luck?” I whispered, afraid Sam or Tony might hear us inside. “I thought you were gonna cut me up. Put it away.”
“Ah, Al, I’d never cut you. This is just for a little extra precaution.”
“Please put it away. The people who are coming tonight are like us. They’re not coming to chop up people. This group is for mutual support and making change.”
‘It doesn’t hurt to come prepared,” Freddie-Faye said, snapping the knife shut and slipping it back into her rear pocket. “Could be that infiltrators from the FBI will come to check us out and tell our secrets to destroy us.”
‘We’re not letting those types in.”
“Oh, sure, and you think you can recognize an FBI from anybody else?”
“Well, uh…”
‘You can’t, Al. They’re too crafty.”
‘But we have experienced men coming who…’
“Can’t recognize them either. I’ll keep my ears open and my knife in my pocket.” She turned to Janet and Deb whose faces showed the fear Freddie-Faye wanted to generate. “You ready to go in?”
They stared at her. Deb nodded, looking like she wanted to run in the opposite direction. “M-my mother won’t find out I was here, will s-she?”
“You have a mother?” Freddie-Faye quipped.
“Of course, I do. What do you think? I was hatched?”
“You never mention her,” I clarified.
“What’s to mention?” She stepped back from the door.
Janet and I shrugged our shoulders at each other. I hurried through the door, the others following behind me. We entered a cavernous unfinished room, with exposed beams and pipes. It smelled of paint. Wood planks were piled up here and there and the piles were scattered about the room.
We were met by a few frightened-looking men in business suits and ties, holding briefcases close to their chests. They stood behind a red metal folding table; their eyes looked about ready to pop out of their heads as they saw us. “May I—I help you,” one emaciated guy with thick glasses asked, stepping toward us, but not too close.
“Uh, we’re here for the meeting,” I said.
“What meeting?” a man with the thinning hair asked.
“Oh. Have we made a mistake?” I looked at the others. Should I say the name out loud? “Mattachine?” I whispered. “Isn’t this…?”
As soon I said the word the whole room, even the walls, seemed to remember how to breathe. And out of a doorway came Tony. “Hi, Al.”
“Hi, Tony. I thought I had the wrong address the way—” I whispered, “That other guy acted kinda strange.”
“He was just being cautious, but I’m glad you’re here.” He shook my hand and then swerved to shake Deb’s and Janet’s. “Some of the guys aren’t so used to girls,” he whispered. “They were taken back with your arrival. Didn’t mean to be unwelcoming.”
The blonde man in the tan suit, said. “We never get girls coming ‘round. Still staring at me he laid his brief case on the table.
Sam Mumford came outta the same back room as Tony. “Hi Al,” He carried pamphlets that he laid on the table. “He’s right. Except for you we never had girls at the planning meetings at my house. We’re gonna be careful who comes into this room, too. You understand?”
“Oh, yeah, sure, but we thought you said girls could join this.”
“Oh, they can, they can,” Tony said. “In L.A. there are a few girls who are members. There was more in the beginning than now. Or at least that’s what I heard. There aren’t many any anymore. I’m not sure why. But, uh… We’re all homosexuals. Aren’t we? Here. Have a seat.” He opened a folding chair and patted the seat for me. “Right here. It’s a little early so the others haven’t arrived yet, but they’ll be along soon. Then we’ll get started.”
I sat down, while Faye, Deb and Janet stood, looking around the room. There were no other seats, but we didn’t want to say anything.
We hurried in behind Janet and were met by a few frightened men in business suits and ties, holding briefcases close to their chests. They stood behind a table; their eyes looked about ready to pop out of their heads as they saw us. s.
Sam and Joe stared at me while Freddie-Faye, Janet and Deb stood waiting for whatever was supposed to happen next.
“We’re here for the meeting.” I said.
“What meeting?” A man with thinning hair asked.
“Oh. Have we made a mistake?” I looked at the others. Should I say the name out loud? Matt—achine,” I whispered cautiously. “Can I say that our loud?”
“Yes, you can,” Sam said, coming in from a door off the main room. “We’re public now.”
As soon as I let the word out the whole room, even the walls, seemed to remember how to breathe. And outta the same doorway came Tony, “Hi Al.”
“Tony! I thought I had the wrong address. The way…” I whispered, “That other guy acted kinda strange.”
“He was just being cautious, but I’m glad you’re here.” He shook my hand and then swiveled to shake the rest of the girl’s.
“Well, girls,” Sam said, “You’re right on time. We have a few goodies we picked up. We thought we could use this table for the refreshments and get a load of this.” Sam pulled a heavy coffee urn from a paper bag and laid it down on the table. “So, how’s that?”
“It’s huge!” A man with blonde hair and muscles, who I later learned was Joe, said. “You must be expecting an army.”
“Well, at least half of one,” Sam said. “We sent out enough announcements. So, Al you wanna get started on this?”
“Excuse me? Started on what?”
“The coffee,” he said. “The fixings are in the bag. You ladies can start putting out the bowls of chip and dip, a few other things are in the other bag.”
He turned to talk to Joe. Tony lit a cigarette. “Excuse me, Sam.” I said.
He kept talking to Joe and didn’t seem to hear me. Janet and Deb grabbed bags of potato chips and were about to empty them in serving bowls. I grabbed the bags outta their hands, much to their confusion. I walked over to the three men, now all enjoying a smoke and a laugh.
“Gentlemen!” I shouted as loud as I could.
“Al,” Tony said. “We’re right here. There’s no need to shout.”
“That depends on your perspective. I do not know how to make coffee.”
They chuckled; I think, expecting me to join them in my little joke.
When they saw I wasn’t twittering along with them, Sam said, “You’re a secretary. Of course, you know how to make coffee.”
“I am not a secretary.” I sat on the rage that about to burst outta me so I could get my words out. “I am in charge of a nightclub. I have a secretary. I don’t drink coffee because I don’t like coffee. Therefore, I’ve never had any reason to learn to make it. If coffee is needed at my work my secretary or the cook makes it. You boys better find someone to make that coffee rather quickly because according to my watch we should be having guests in fifteen minutes.”
“What kinda woman are you?” Joe asked.
“Hey,” Tony said. “Go easy. I’ll do it.”
“Wow!” Freddie-Faye said. “You really told them.”
“We do need to help out, though,” I said to my friends, “but not because of the randomness of nature that determined our sex. We need to help because we’re people and that’s what people do.”
“What’s the difference?” Freddie-Faye asked.
“There’s a difference. Let’s go help.”
“I don’t get the difference,” Freddie-Faye said shaking her head and following me to the refreshments table. “We still gotta do it.”
Once the coffee was made and the snacks in their bowls we waited for the many people Tony and Sam were expecting to attend this first meeting on The Mattachine Society, NY. We uncomfortably stood around, waiting and waiting.
“Gentlemen?” Tony said with a touch of irritation as he turned to face the man with the thinning hair, who I learned was Carl. Tony tossed his head to the right, as a signal. The men came running with folding chairs, unfolding them, and patting the seats for us. With all the girls seated the men stood staring at us. The silence was excruciating. It involved a lot of smiling and sighing.
“Refreshments!” Tony burst out as if overjoyed that he thought of something to say. “We have some!”
The skinny one leaning against the wall ran behind the table and grabbed a grocery bag.
“But they’re for later,” Sam said. “After the meeting.”
“Don’t fuss,” I said. “We’re fine. We can wait for the others.”
“Good,” Tony said. “I do have a few things to get ready.” He dashed back to the table and took out his briefcase. The men laid papers on the table. No one spoke. I felt like we had fallen into a tomb and no one dare disturb the peace there, except there was no peace there. We, girls, sat stiff in our chairs waiting for some instruction or some other people while they moved papers about and gave each other glances, which I think were signals that meant, “What the heck do we do with them?”
After a few moments, the door opened and a few more men entered. These a little more boisterous, patting themselves on the back, laughing, opening folding chairs. Then seeing us, stared and retreated into silence.
When there were eight of us gathered Tony took his place at the table in front of the room as the president of the New York branch of the Mattachine Society. “Eight?” I whispered to Faye. “That’s it?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“I think it’s appropriate to start,” Tony began, “by reviewing the purpose of the Mattachine Society. It is to educate citizens about the homosexual minority group. To let the public, know that we are no different than any other minority group and because of that we are asking the government to give us our civil rights. The right to not lose our jobs, our homes…”
“What about those articles in the Review,” I asked, raising my hand but not waiting to be called on. Well, damn, there were only eight people there. “The ones with Dr. Ellis calling us neurotic. How’s that gonna get us our civil rights?”
“Yeah!” Janet whispered in my ear.
“Well, everyone has a right to their opinion, don’t they?” Tony said.
“I s’pose, but…”
“That opinion—that we’re sick—isn’t anything new,” Faye said. “Why should we publish it in our own magazine?”
“Yeah, why?” I jumped in to back up Faye. “Sam what about that woman doctor who did the study showing homosexual men wasn’t any different from straight men except for their love object?”
“Dr. Hooker. Yes.”
“So why would you give this Dr. Ellis space in our magazine to say the opposite.”
“There are finer points to the argument you can’t understand,” the skinny guy said.
“I can understand things just fine,” I told him. “Sam? Why do you publish this doctor?”
“To show that we are good Americans.”
“What?”
“We need to let the public know that we believe in the American way, that we do not have some strange ideology as many Americans think we do. Most of us do not agree with Dr. Ellis. However, we publish his ideas to show our belief in freedom of speech and thought. To show that we are not afraid of ideas contrary to our own. Therefore, we are good Americans, and the country doesn’t have to be afraid of us.”
“So, it’s a ploy.”
“You might put it that way.”
“Interesting, but I’m not so sure…”
“Well, you obviously don’t understand the finer points of the argument,” the skinny man said.
“What!” I jumped up from my seat. “I’m tired of you saying that. I can understand the “finer” points of the argument just fine. You arrogant little…”
“We don’t allow name calling in here,” Tony said.
“Fine. Sorry, Tony, but I really need to go now. I’m really very angry and I don’t want to call any names which if I stay, I’m afraid I’ll have to do. Try not to forget how you got this room. I gotta go. Now.”
I headed toward the door. Janet, Freddie-Faye and Deb followed.
“I just figured out why there are no girls in this group,” I whispered to my friends as we neared the door.
Tony approached me and took my hand, “Carl (I guess that was the skinny guy) didn’t mean anything. You’re always welcome. We’re all in the same struggle.”
“Are we?”
Sam held the door open for us. He whispered as we were leaving, “Yes, you and your friends are always completely welcome, but maybe next time you could wear something a little more—appropriate. A dress or a skirt might be nice, don’t you think?”
* * *
“We marched into Pam Pam’s and grabbed a table. I was furious.
“We gotta talk about this,” Freddie said.
Before anyone could get a thought out a girl in a dark blue flared skirt and a pink sweater with breasts so pointed, they looked lethal came over to our table. Her hair combed into a ponytail. “Well, hello there, Freddie-Faye?” She batted her long eye lashes. “Where have you been hiding?”
“What Cindy? We’re busy,” Freddie said.
Cindy took a cigarette from her pocketbook and put it in her mouth without lighting it. It bounced up and down as she spoke. “Well? Who are you ?” She was looking right at me. “I’ve never met you before. Introduce me, Freddie.”
Freddie sighed. “Al, Cindy—Cindy, Al. Now go, Cindy.”
“I don’t know you, but I’d sure like too,” she oozed, bobbing her hip up and down at me. She waved the cigarette in front of my eyes. “Hint, hint.”
“Well, uh, I don’t smoke so I don’t have…”
“Cut it out, Cindy,” Freddie said. “You don’t smoke either.”
“How do you know? You haven’t seen me in months, and I like your friend—Al .” She said my name as if she’d swallowed it and now was releasing it into the air.
“Cut it out, Cindy. We got business to talk about.”
“Oo, business. Then I won’t interrupt. But Al , I’ll be right over there”—she pointed at the table across from us—"if you need me.” She winked and turned her back to me. Her short walk to her table was simply delightful to watch. She sat with another femme. They sipped their sodas through a straw, and Cindy kept turning around to look at me, her ponytail wagging with the swing of her head.
“Stop starin’ at her,” Freddie-Faye said to me.
“I’m not.”
“If you could just see your face, Al,” Janet said, giggling. “I think you like her.”
“But you just met her,” Deb whined.
“I’m not interested in her Deb,” I whispered. “She just seems like a nice girl.”
“Well, she’s not,” Freddie-Faye said. “She’s poison and she’s my ex so hands off.”
“Oh, sure. I never even thought…”
“Like hell ya didn’t. Let’s get back to business.”
“Okay, that meeting was a disappointment,” I said. “But Tony’s a nice guy.”
“Yeah, he was okay, but it seems like an organization for homosexual men , not us,” Faye said.
“I think so, too,” Deb said.
“Me, too,” Janet said.
“It’s not worth our time,” Faye said. “Ya know there’s that gay girl organization—"
“Yeah. in L.A.,” I said. “What good is that gonna do us. If all we have is Mattachine I’m gonna try to stick it out with them. Maybe we can turn that group into something.”
Faye and Janet laughed. Deb just shook her head.“Okay, okay, maybe that won’t work. I just know I gotta to do something.”
When I looked over at the corner table, I saw Cindy looking right at me. I quickly changed the direction of my gaze. “Uh, Freddie, I been meaning to ask you about Sally.”
“Oh, yeah, we got so involved with Mattachine and other stuff I never asked you about your date.” She addressed Deb and Janet, “You remember Al had a date with Sally. So, tell us about it. Did you have a good time?”
“Uptown in the West Sixties?”
“Ooh,” they all said.
“She lives way up there?” Freddie-Faye said.
“She does. With lots of unsavory types. And she’s a prostitute. Did you know that Freddie?”
“Not really, but I thought maybe. Lotsa girls that come to The Bag and the Sea Colony are. Does that bother you?”
“Well, uh…” I s’pose, it’s okay. She was real kind to me. We slept under her flowery bedspread that smelled of lilacs.”
“That sounds nice,” Janet said.
“Freddie, why do prostitutes come to our bars?”
“It’s safe. They’re with these disgustin’ men all the time who make them do things they wish they didn’t have to do, but they need the money. It’s relaxin’ for them to be around women talkin’ or whatever. Lots of them have regular girlfriends, but they prostitute to bring in money. It’s survival. Factories don’t pay so great, especially to girls. Maybe she can be your next girlfriend.”
“Nah, I don’t think that’ll happen.”
“Good-bye, Allie,” Cindy said standing at the edge of our table. She was so close to me her knee touched mine. “My friend and I have to go, but…” She dropped her handkerchief on the floor.
“Will you just can it, Cindy? We’re having a serious talk here. Somethin’ you’d never understand.”
“I’ll go as soon as I’ve retrieved my hankie.”
“I’ll get it.” It lay near my foot.
Cindy bent close to me and took the hankie from me. "Aren’t you a dear?” She turned toward Freddie and waved. “Toodle loo, dear.”
The girl with her grabbed her arm. “Will you come on.”
I couldn’t help watching her go, the way she swayed those hips.
“You stay away from her, Al,” Faye said, “She’s poison.”
“Yeah?” I said, watching her go out the door.
“And it’s never a good idea to date someone’s ex,” Janet added.
“She’s not my type.”
“You kidding?” Deb said, “Cindy’s everybody’s type. Isn’t she, Faye?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”