When Straights Take Over the Gay-borhood

Last month, my girlfriend, Jackie, and I went on our first vacation together. We went to New York to visit a Santa Barbara friend who moved there to broaden her professional horizons and, for an added bonus, date a few ladies.

But New York would be different. My friend lived in Park Slope in Brooklyn, and practically every travel book Jackie and I read used some variation of the phrase, “Park Slope, or Dyke Slope as it’s referred to because of the high concentration of lesbians, is a lovely brownstone neighborhood …” Plus, two New York natives swore it was lesbian heaven, and one of my coworkers, who lived in the city for seven years, actually said, “You’ll be in paradise; you won’t ever want to come back.”

Ah, the pang of disappointment: nary a lezzie in sight. In fact, quite the contrary; we were surrounded by straight couples and sat next to two gay fellas who spent a large portion of their morning trying to get their adopted child to say “Dad.”

It’s happened before in other zip codes. Last March, the San Francisco Chronicle described the outrage of many gay and lesbian residents in the Castro, who felt their historic part of town was being taken over by heterosexuals seeking safe neighborhoods in which to raise their children.

Such a shift happened in our fair city not so long ago. Remember the days of Hades, or Chameleon, or Gold Coast, or Fathom? With all those long closed, Paddy’s in Ventura is the only seven-days-a-week gay bar in the tri-counties. And while Robert Mendez’s six-year-old Red Room on Sunday nights at the Wildcat is fabulous, it’s only one night. What happens if I want to dance to Kelly Clarkson on Friday or Saturday?

If gays don’t need a special part of town, that means we’re not all that special or, more importantly, different from anyone else. People are starting to realize what we gays have known all along: We’re just like you, and you are just like us.

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Movie about Harvey Milk wrapped in SF

"Harvey will be coming out soon," an extra assured the crowd in front of City Hall on a recent Sunday. They had gathered to be in a scene in "Milk"- the movie about the life and death of Harvey Milk - in which the San Francisco supervisor delivers an impassioned speech. It was really Sean Penn, of course, who plays the martyred supervisor, who would be appearing.

A couple thousand people waited for a re-enactment of Milk's fiery speech, which capped the parade. This was the last day calling for such a large cast.

Appearing on the City Hall steps to deafening applause, Penn looked shockingly like Milk. He had his almost Grecian nose and dark wavy hair parted to one side and wore a tight T-shirt that showed off his muscles.

"Brothers and sisters, you must come out to your parents," Penn/Harvey shouted, pronouncing his vowels distinctly to sound like a New Yorker. "It may hurt them. But think how they could hurt you in the voting booth."

Penn would do eight takes of this speech all to loud applause from an indefatigable crowd, including people who had stood in the same spot 30 years ago listening to Milk urge gays to protect their rights from those trying to get gay-friendly legislation repealed.

A dozen rows back from Penn, John Hershey, 63, started crying. Milk had influenced him to come out to his family, Hershey recalled.

What was fun about having "Milk" shot here is how "in" it made locals feel. They could go home that Sunday and tell friends that Penn gave a speech just for them. Keen observers might have caught a glimpse of Robin Williams, who at one point was to play Milk, and Oliver Stone, who was to direct one version of the biopic. Both stopped by to watch Penn and director Gus Van Sant, whom Williams worked with on "Good Will Hunting."

Thousands of San Franciscans marched in a simulation of the Gay Freedom Parade that was held on June 25, 1978, and of the vigil in November that year to commemorate the deaths of Milk and Mayor George Moscone, both murdered by Supervisor Dan White.

Those who weren't around to see the Castro district in the 1970s got a sense of it after scenic designers went to work changing storefronts. Overnight a store called Aquarius Records popped up with a purple, yellow, orange and periwinkle front. The shop used to be in the Castro but moved to Noe Valley. Designers also brought back China Court, a popular restaurant in the '70s. Milk's election headquarters was decorated with posters of him under a colorful canopy.

The interior of Milk's camera shop also was re-created and became a place where his pals from the old days like author Armistead Maupin, one-time Milk aide Anne Kronenberg and Cleve Jones, founder of the NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt who is an adviser on the film, would stop in. "They were moved to tears to see everything exactly the way it had been," said Dan Jinks, co-producer with Bruce Cohen. The two previously produced "American Beauty" and "Big Fish."

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SAN FRANCISCO: Halloween safety

Whether you're dressing up or dressing down, Community United Against Violence wants people to stay safe this Halloween. In past years, Halloween celebrations in the Castro have been cut short by violence and anti-LGBTQ harassment. This year, the city has canceled the Castro street party, but no one is sure what to expect that night. There are also other activities taking place throughout the Bay Area. Below are some safety tips from CUAV.