Transcript of interview with Edward "Eddie" Anderson by Dennis McBride, October 11-14, 2000

/V<2 7^ g<7<7J Las Vegas Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender Archives Oral History Project Interview with H. Edward "Eddie" Anderson 2000 Table of Contents 1. acknow ledgm ents............................................................................................................................................ ii 2. photographs...................................................................................................................................................... in 3. transcript..............................................................................................................................................................1 4. addendum: E ddie A nderson C ollection inventory [UNLS M S no. 2002-27].............................176 5. notes................................................................................................................................................................186 6. index............................................................................................................................................................... 220 ^ ^ ^ l Acknowledgments I'd like to thank E ddie A nderson for spending three long days w ith m e in O ctober 2000 detailing his life and activism in behalf o f so m any progressive causes. His m em ories and stories are an invaluable addition to the history o f N evada in general and to the state's lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender com m unity in particular. H ow ever, if it w ere not for Rob Schlegel in Las Vegas and Dorismae W eber in Reno w ho prevailed upon Eddie to talk w ith m e, this history w ould never have been recorded. Jack and Carrol) G ardner provided a hom e base for me in Reno during the recording and also provided space in w hich I could collect and process Eddie's personal papers and effects, w hich have been deposited in the Gay, lesbian, B isexual and Transgender Archives in the Special C ollections D epartm ent o f the U niversity o f N evada, Las Vegas Lied Library [MS 2002-27 (inventory included with this transcript as A ddendum )]. ^ ^ ^ ii Photographs 1. Eddie A nderson, ca. 1996...............................................................................................................title page 2. Question 2 editorial cartoon, 2 0 0 0 .............................................................................................................. 2 3. the A lbertinum at U kiah, CA, ca. 1965................................................................................................. 15 4. Anderson at O ur Lady o f G uadalupe Cursillo Center, ca. 1965......................................................24 5. Coalition for the Protection o f M arriage in N evada m ailer, 2 0 0 2 .................................................. 26 6. William "Bill" R aggio, ca. 1972-75......................................................................................................... 40 7. Anderson's N avy portrait, spring 1969................................................................................................... 45 8. Anderson and R ichard N ixon aboard the 7/. <S. & NriingfoM, July 26, 1969................................. 49 9. Anderson, 1974.............................................................................................................................................. 57 10. Courtney A nderson, ca. 1974................................................................................................................... 59 11. Reno Gay Rodeo flier, 1979.................................................................................................................... 62 12. cowboy dancers at the Reno Gay R odeo, 1980..................................................................................64 13. riding at the Reno Gay R odeo, 1980......................................................................................................64 14. hom ophobic rem arks by N evada Lieutenant G overnor M yron Leavitt, 1981............................65 15. protesters at the R eno G ay R odeo, 1980...............................................................................................66 16. AIDS affects the R eno Gay R odeo, 1983............................................................................................ 76 17. Lon M abon o f the O regon C itizens A lliance, 1993-94.....................................................................80 18. Minority SfatM.y onN CM/<2 P ro tectio n Net news article, 1994.........................................................80 19. Minority S'totn^ on<2 C7n7J P ro tectio n N et news article, 1994......................................................... 81 20. Campaign for L iberty flier, 1994............................................................................................................81 21. Anderson and N evada G overnor R obert "Bob" M iller, ca. 1 9 9 0 s ............................................... 90 22. Independent A m erican Party editorial cartoon, 1994....................................................................... 91 23. Minority S*totM on<2 C7n'M P rotection Net news article, 1994......................................................104 24. Anderson and Bruce M acgow an, sum m er 1987.............................................................................136 25. kick-off broadcast o f A nderson's radio show on K H IT -R eno, 1990..........................................141 26. Anderson and activist/fem inist M olly Yard, 1990...........................................................................143 27. Anderson, Richard "Dick" G ephardt, and D orothy N orth in W ashington, DC, 1995........... 145 28. Dorothy N orth, Tom D aschle, and A nderson in W ashington, DC, 1995..................................146 29. Harry Reid and A nderson in W ashington, DC, 1995.....................................................................146 30. Anderson at the W hite H ouse, 1995................................................................................................... 147 31. kick-off broadcast o f A nderson's radio show, 5?pe<3^ G nt VevoNo, 1994...................................148 32. Anderson, R obert K ennedy, Jr., and V irginia D em m ler, 2 001.................................................... 168 % ^ Las V e g a s G a y , L e s b i a n , B i s e x u a l and T r a n s g e n d e r A r c h i v e s O r a l H i s t o r y P r o j e c t I n t e r v i e w w i t h H . E d w a r d " E d d i e " A n d e r s o n c o n d u c t e d b y D e n n i s A l e B r i d e O c t o b e r 1 1 - 1 4 , 2 0 0 0 7o<7ay A Ubr7ae^r7ay, October 77, 2000 aa<7 7'w .s;7/wg wbA E<7<7/'e Hno'er,ww w 4 7^aw7?ow P/ace,l w/?;c/? ;'.s* tbe gay aa<r7 /e.sb/aa center w 7?eao. Hb're ,s7art/ag a .serA.s o/ wArv/ew.s' tor7ay tba7 way /a.st /7?e re.st o/ /7?e weeTr—aar7 tAey way go or? wAer? 7?e oowe.s* <7oww ?o 7,a,s Cega.s* /or a v/,sO w a 7?7/7e w/?;7e. 7?w" 6e/ore we .star? /7?e w7erv?'ew 7 war?/e<7 /o a.si yoa, Er7c7?'e, to te// we agaw, 7?r?'e/7y, aOoa7 a cowwea7 t7?at wa^ w aJe to yoa Oy ar? act?'v?'.st t/?at we ,spoAe a/?o??t over <7waer very recer?t/y. 7b t/?e e^ec7 that you <7?<7a 7 <7o ar?ytb?r?g w yoar /;/e a.s a gay act;v?.st, aar/ they're Jo?r?g a/7 /Oe ;wyortaot /Owg,s* r?ow. John Kline. 1 met John Kline, 1 believe, in '94 during the Oregon Citizens Alliance [fight].2 You have to kick start me. 7'w o/<7! [/a??g7?,s] If it isn't Alzheimer's, my mind stops. So, help me with dates. But John Kline— 1 met 'im during the Oregon Citizens Alliance and I've kept contact with 'im through the years. He's more or less kept in contact with me as I've gone on to other things and he's called several times. Recently he called me one day and we were talking because he knows that 1 was supporting Question 2.3 And we'll get into why I do that and why 1 resent being called a hateful bigot as well 1 as others being broad-brushed as hateful bigots. But your question about Kline— his comment was, "WeH, Eddie, you know, after aH, the people today accomplished a lot of things and you and you guys, you guys didn't accomplish aHyf/?;Mg. You got nothin' done." And that really hurt. That hurt. I resented the remark and 1 cut the conversation short. I said, "Well, John, I've gotta go." 'Cause I thought, you know, I'm not gonna sit here .... I'm at a place in my life where I'm not about to have to defend m yself anymore. He sort o f brought home a rem ark that Merle Haggard^ once said when a guy stood outside his dressing room and the guy told 'im [/m'/M/cv <3 .wMtAer/i Jraw /], "I gotta meet Merle," he says. "I ju st gotta m eet Merle. I got every record he ever .yang, 1 got every record he ever w a& , every album he ever p a t oat, every gold piece he's ever stood for. And all the CDs. Gotta let me m eet 'im. Before he retires." And the man says, "WeH, !emme go ask 'im." And when he asked 'im, he said, "The guy outside wants to m eet you, M erle. He's been a fan all your life, got all your records, all your songs, gone to every concert, hasn't missed a beat!" So John Kline's com m ent was alm ost what Merle Haggard reminded me I wanted to tell 'im: "Mr. Kline, you know at this point in my life I think I've met just about everybody I'm supposed to for one lifetime." But I like John. Tay Eegay C;Yy Z//e, N ovem ber 2, 2000, p. 12 2 Bn/ Anowwg 0A0M/ yoM wAo/ / Jo /n /Ae Ar/e/ //we /'ve Aoowo yoM, V /A/oA /Ao/ /Ao/'.s- o very//we pre/oce /o opew /Ae /oterv/ew wAA. Jw J peop/e w/// Ae oA/e to /MJge Ay /Ae //we we get /o /Ae ewJ q/*/AA /M.s/ Aow wrong Nr. A^/we wov. .So. Ze/'^ .s/or/. / o/woy^ ^*/or/ //r.s/ Ay o.sA/og wAere yon were Aorw owJ wAew yon Aorw. 1 was born December 5, 1946 in San Antonio, Texas. My grandparents ran a hotel called the W estern Inn for the W estern Pacific Railroad in Winnemucca, Nevada. As soon as 1 was born, 1 was in an orphanage. Actually, my mother^ died five weeks after 1 was bom o f tuberculosis, TB. A nd 1 went to an orphanage. ITAere wo.s yo:/r /o/Aer? He was in the army at Fort Sam Houston, at Texas. He was in the Dental Corps. And he made teeth. He was a dental technician and made teeth. And after my mom died and all of this— 1 was much too young to remember! [/oMgA^]— 1 remember somewhere being told 1 had gone to an orphanage. I lived there for two years and nine months and 1 was two years and nine months old when my grandmother and grandfather got on a train from Winnemucca, rode the train to San Antone to get me out o f this orphanage. 1 have to laugh to this day. I can see my grandm other tellin' me about riding across the desert on the train and I'm sitting on her lap and I see a bunch o f cowboys rounding up cows out in the wherever and she said the first word I ever said to her— 'cause 1 was so silent— was "Ride 'em cowboy!" [/oMgA,s] Little did 1 know that ... ! [/oMgA.s] Took me forty years to rope one! [/oMgA,sj Anyway, yeah, San Antonio, Texas, and came to W innemucca and 1 lived there until 1954 at the W estern Inn, at this little hotel they ran for the Western Pacific Railroad in Winnemucca. My grandfather was an Elk and he died and I remember the flags lowered at half staff in W innemucca and the town literally shut down. ITAo/ were your gro/?r^ore/!A' wowes? My grandmother's name was Laura and my grandfather was Grandpa Ed. In fact, my middle name is Edward. 1 go by Eddie, 1 go by his name, my Grandfather Ed. 'Cause I'm named after my father and my father's name is Harry. Little did 1 know that one day I'd be holding MgA/ Court! 6 [/oMgA,s j 3 ffcre ;/;e,se y o M r p a r e n t ? Yeah, my father's parents. I never knew my mother's side o f the family at ait. It was years, years iater when i was in my 20s that one day 1 heard about my mother's sister in San Antone named ... . She stiii iived there. In fact, one day I got the San Antonio phone directory, I got information and I called her on the phone. She told me all about my father and she told me about my mother. The pictures o f my mom and everything. I know my life would've been different had she lived. [?ear.y] I know it would have been a /o/ different. She graduated from the University o f Chicago. She was highly educated, music was her major ... . [vo;ce /roz'As' awuy] ToM .s'o;'<7yoMf* fvAs*eJyoM MM?;/ 7934? Yeah. And then my grandfather died and I went to the funeral and everything. And 1954 is when 1 saw my father for perhaps, maybe, the second time in my life at that point. 1 was really young at the time. I was, what, maybe eight or nine. But, anyway, he came to me and next thing I know I w as on a train with my father, he took me away from my grandmother who stayed back in Winnemucca. And 1 went with my dad to Stockton, California. It was in Stockton, California, 1 was there about a week with my dad, and he had remarried to a woman nam ed Ruth. And my dad took me to a place called the Children's Home o f Stockton, [tear.?, vo;ce I was in the Children's Home of Stockton .... If7 ? y ;//;/ /?e p M /y o M ;'M ;/?e CA;7<7reM ',s T Tow e? I dunno. He thought it best. 1 don't know. It was later on in life that 1 finally came to terms with my father. c/?<7Mg&s .w/yec/] I lived there for 1 don't know how long. Couple o f years, 1 think. That's where 1 ... . [,so/).s] 1 was interested at that time in why they had schools far kids, why there were such places as homes for kids and all the time I wanted to live with my [grand]mother. My father and Ruth, 1 think, separated, divorced or something. He had come on occasion to visit me and take me out to dinner. 1 can't remember the place, but he'd take me to a place for dinner that made home-made blackberry pie. And If I ate all my dinner, I got a piece o f blackberry pie. I was there [at the Children's Home] and I left. My grandparents finally came to get me. My grandmother remarried to a man named A1 Evans. Alfred Evans was a good man. I went to live with him for awhile, he and my grandmother, in Roseville, California where he 4 worked for the railroad. Before that, he worked in Sparks for, tike, thirty-seven years. And then he came to RosevUle. Before he died, he had had a totai o f fifty-seven years of service with the Southern Pacific [Rai!road] as a master mechanic. Here was a guy that worked hard, took the eariy bus, piayed by the ruies, and had a third-grade education— but had more )ove and sense o f compassion. [paay^y to cry] He had common sense. He had common sense. He taught m e that life hoids a purpose. My grandm other and my grandfather at that time .... God, I was going to grade school, Vernon Street School. And that was my first real experience with people who were different than me in co/or. f remember two events in my life, living with my grandparents. My grandfather w as a strong union man, for one thing. And I remember him telling me 1 will walk the picket line with him. "Bring a lunch, Boy! We're gonna walk. And we're gonna walk for workers' rights. We're gonna walk for a thing called j*MVicc." "What's justice, Granpa?" "Someday, son, you're too young to know. But one day you'll know." And 1 found m yself marching with my grandfather in a picket line when they went on strike against the railroad. I don't remember the year. 1 remember the event, ft was in that same period that my grandm other also demanded o f me that i bring a lunch and walk with her one day. "We're gonna march with a bunch o f women." 1 said, "You gotta be kidding. Grandma, i don't wanna march with women. Women and girls scare me." "You'll get used to it." Little did i know that we were marching that day in the city downtown, the main drag, for equal rights for women. This was before the ERA was even /?ear<? of. A bunch of women got together in town. 1 think it had something to do with the anniversary of Women's Suffrage or something. "Grandma, what's suffrage?" She says, "Well, you're gonna learn what <SM^cr means and you're gonna learn what the yM^rage was. You're too young now, son, but I'll explain it to you one day. Meantime, you're gonna march with me and it's about women's parity." "Parity, Grandma. What's parity?" "You'll find out, son, what that means one day." God! W ords kept coming into my mind and 1 was building up a vocabulary. My grandparents got into an automobile wreck ju st outside Sacramento. They both lived, but they were both in the hospital pretty serious. And my dad came back on the scene to get me. And I'll never forget it. 1 believe it was Wednesday, March 15 or 14, 5 1958. We pulled up outside this building in Stockton, California, with my uncle.7 My uncle was riding, my dad was driving. I was sitting in the back seat, [my dad says], "You wait here. Don't you get out o f this car. I'll be right back." An hour or so later my uncle and my dad came out o f this building and they were arguing. And my dad says, "OK, scoot over." So he got in the car and we drove out in the country. We drove up to this place called Peterson Hall. 1 didn't know at the time, but that was a juvenile hall facility. It was a juvenile facility, it w as /Mrem'/e hall. But they had a unit there that was not lock down, that was not for kids, as 1 learned because 1 was not a bad kid. 1 remember my uncle arguing with my dad, "Why are you doing this?" And my dad taking me by the hand and walking in this building and this man and this woman coming out and taking me by the hand and walking me down a long hall that had green tile and black stripes along the floor. And [1] kept looking back and [saw] my dad and my uncle walking away. And little did 1 know 1 was going to be put in this place, Peterson Hall. I remember at night, even though the doors were locked, going to the window and hanging onto the screen. There was a crack in the window and the night air could come through from the outside. For some reason the air smelled different. The air on the outside was the scent o f freedom, [/ears, vo/'ce weaker?,s] The inside, the air, a sense of confusion. ... I didn't know where 1 was going or what was gonna happen. 1 stayed there for awhile and I w ent to school there and 1 remember the white t-shirts and the jeans and the tennis shoes. Converse^ with the high tops. If7?erc wa.s' Pe/ersoM /Va//? It was in Stockton, California. San Joaquin County. 1 don't rem ember dates or how long, but one day they came to me and said, "We're gonna put you in another home. W e've found another home for you." Wow. Lucky me. [/aMg/M] 'Bout three miles down the road, which, at the time, 1 thought was a far away pace and a long ways. 1 remember getting my paper bag with my clothes and the things 1 owned, [cr/as] It was in Lathrop, California, which is right out of Stockton, a place called Mary Graham Hall. It was at Mary Graham Hall, [paM,s*g.s-] I gotta stop a second, gotta go back to my grandmother. 1 remember coming home when 1 lived with my grandma and grandpa Al, 1 came home from school one day. [/<7Mg/?.s] Had a black eye and my shirt was all torn. 1 tried to sneak in the house and my grandma said, "Look at you! W hat happened to you?" "I got in a fight, Grandma." "Why?" 6 "1 durtno. I called this little boy a digger." And she told me, she says, "You know, I'm not so concerned about the shirt and the tom pants and your black eye. 1 w ant you to sit down in that chair."And she said, "Who told you this word?" And 1 told her, "1 heard the other boys at school." [cr;^e,s] It was my first lesson in mutual respect and she came down on me. 1 was to never use that word again. And the next day 1 was to go to school and apologize. And we became friends. That little boy and I, we ended up friends. Mike and I ended up friends and we ended up together from that moment on fending off all the other bullies in school. N ot that 1 was a bully, but 1 got caught in a trap and 1 didn't understand. 1 guess kids'll be kids, but, GoJ! You sure learn in a hurry. But in Mary Graham Hall 1 had Mr. Hansen, he w as my sixth grade teacher. Fifth or sixth grade teacher, sixth grade teacher. He was a nice man. Mr. Hansen. We had a school play, it was a Founder's Day play. Went to school— public school. French Camp Elementary. He was my sixth grade teacher. Mr. M cPharlan was the school principal. George McPharlan. 1 really got close to Mr. M cPharlan and Mr. Hansen. They sort of took me under their wing. 1 realized years later when 1 saw Mr. M cPharlan for the last time, he said, "I knew in the sixth grade that you were made o f something that was different than others." And he says, "That's probably why Mr. Hansen and 1 took a liking to ya." I'd go to their houses for dinner with their families and their wives and their children. It was a great experience. But I'll never forget the school play. 1 didn't realize 1 had the lead part. And it took years later to realize that 1 had the lead part in the play. 1 had a sense o f memorizing back then and that's when I would pick up quotes and 1 would memorize events and memorize things. And today, o f course, 1 have to write everything down.. Even my dog is a step ahead o f me today! But 1 remember that. And 1 remember they encouraged me to go for my dream and what was it. At that time 1 wanted to be priest. 1 wanted in my heart o f hearts to be a priest. 1 wasn't quite yet baptized. So the San Joaquin County Social Services Department— Mrs. Adamic was my social worker. Jerry Adamic was her husband. 1 don't remember her first name. [,wAs] 1 remember 1 wanted to be priest. But you can't be a priest if you're not a Catholic. /fa<? yoM Ace?? o#eH(#Hg ony J o f c/?MrcY? 7 Yeah. I'd go to mass every Sunday. Gotta go to mass. It wasn't about just sharing the sacraments or saying mass. It was about the idea that you could do good. [p<rvM.se.s' to cry] Do yoM wont to vto/j /or o wtm/tc? It was the kind o f good that my grandmother .... [Ike .sAot tAe recorder o/f/or o/cw /no/nent.s' .so D&A'e con co/w/;o.se A/tn.sc//] It was the kind o f good that my grandmother and my two grandfathers had instilled in me. And had told me about. I knew that somewhere in this world that there was maybe a parish or a country church that was right for me. So that I could help kids that were a lot like me find a sense o f stability and belonging. And not all the world was like my father or was cruel or had no sense o f fairness. That the world wo,s good. 1 left there one day after several months— I was so proud of myself, 'cause at that point I was starting to develop w hat I became in life. .S'cn.s;7;vc. 1 left Mary Graham Hall and went to a foster home out in the country in the same part o f Lathrop, California, out of Stockton again. 1 went to live w ith a couple o f old folks, they had a couple o f kids. H%<2f were fAe;'r nr/we,s? I don't remember. I remember Mrs. Beatty, living in Winnemucca, living in her house once. She baby-sat me. M arian Grauvogel,9 great teacher, taught me at Winnemucca Elementary School when 1 lived with my first grandfather and grandmother. I went to W innemucca Elementary. M arian Grauvogel was my teacher. I remember going to the Catholic Church on Sunday and hurrying up with mass so I could run across to the Episcopal Church on the other corner and get the doughnuts. 1 was a great one for doughnuts. And then 1 got guilty. I thought, "God, I'm only going to two churches. Maybe it's not enough! [AwgAYl and maybe it's 'cause o f the doughnuts!" But 1 remember Lathrop and living on this farm with these people. They had a milk farm with all these cows and this man was nice. He says, "I'm gonna teach ya, Boy, the art o f your hands and teach you the blessings o f hard work." So I'd get up every morning at four o'clock, get dressed, and we'd go to the barn and it was my job to shovel shit. So I'd clean up after cows. And then I'd wash it down with a hose and then I'd get my little stool and I'd sit next to him while he pulled the tit and milked the cow. We'd go around and milk all those cows. Yeah, that was great work. I'll never forget the day 1 8 found a field mouse. I kept it in a tin can and thought I could keep it alive and it died. 1 felt so bad that we took it out in the middle o f the field and we buried it, one of the kids I was livin' with. I can't remember the[ir] names. Anyway, I felt bad. [/r/MyA.s] We said a little prayer over this dead mouse and we buried 'im. Swore up and down for years that little mouse went to heaven. One day my dad and my grandparents came to visit me. I begged 'em to take me home. 1 couldn't go home. And they left. D;'J t/?ey ever g;'ve yoM a rea.ww wAy tAey woM/(?M Y ?aAre yoM /?owe? I was a ward o f the court, for one thing. At that point, I was a ward o f the court and the court would not allow me ... . 77?ey were in charge now. And my grandparents were really up in age. So Mary Graham Hall to the foster home. And one day the social worker, Mrs. Adamic, shows up, she says, "Do 1 have a surprise for you!" I thought, Oh, w/?oopee. "I get to bring my little brown bag again and my clothes, right?" "Yeah." This time, instead o f three shirts for me, 1 had four or five shirts and an extra pair of socks or so. That's what I added to my collection o f what 1 owned at that point in life. 1 got in her car and she says, "We're gonna take a trip and it's a long trip but you'll like it where you're goin'. You're gonna go to a place in W atsonville, California, it's called Joe Amrine's Boys Ranch. "Oh, boy, lucky me." So 1 w ent off to Joe Amrine's Boys Ranch in W atsonville, California. It's in the Santa Cruz Hills, like in the little tow n o f Freeman, which is right out o f Watsonville. And it's right on the coast. And little did 1 know it would be at that place ... . 1 spent a couple of years there. If I can go back. When 1 was at Mary Graham Hall, when I went to the judge with Mrs. Adamic. She says, "We're gonna go down, see the judge in Stockton." We got to the court house to see the judge and the judge invited me into his office. He let me sit next to him. And the judge said, "So you w ant to be a Catholic?" And 1 said, "Yes, sir." He says, "Why can't you be a Catholic now?" 1 said my father wouldn't let me. 9 And he says, "WeH, I'm gonna sign this order, this piece o f paper." And he showed me his signature. [wo/;'o?M signing A A rmwe] He says, "This is gonna be your paper that aiiows you to go out at your young age and you want to be baptized." 1 says, "Yeah." And I found out the judge atso was a parishioner at St. Mary's, oid St. Mary's Cathedra! in Stockton. Old St. Mary's Church in Stockton on Washington Street. Joe Artisi was my godfather. He worked for the church and he had a bookstore, a religious bookstore. Hi never forget. It was, like, that was the greatest day in my iife. It was so important to me. It was so important. God, I was so happy! When I got to Joe Amerine's Boys Ranch, I got involved at that time as an aitar boy. N ow I couid serve mass. I couid serve the priest. I couid be a part o f the ceremony, the rubrics of the mass. GoJ! Yeah. God, I was so excited about mass. I lived from Sunday to Sunday. And I remember studying the Latin. The Latin came easy. I remember studyin' the Latin, the Do?m'MMS vo&AcMws and the F t CMW sp/'r;tM tMOS. Yeah. I remember P<3/er uo.stcr, <?M/ cs w cc/e/A. I rem ember those.10 7%at 7waFes /??e u'<rwt to o,sT tAe (/Mcst/on—yoM ZzecMwe CotAo/ic, yoM wo?zteJ to <Vo t/?e A/PJ o / g o o J t/?ot go or groMctwotAcr owr/ groM<r//otAcr AoJ w.s/zV/eJ w yoM. ITAot wo.s* yoMr MMcAr.s/OMct/Mg o / t/?c wore metaphysical .sz'<?e o / tAe Cot/?o//c re/tgtoM? To Mr MM&r.s'tof?<P'Mg o/ uFot G o J A onr/ yoMr re/ot/'oM.sA;'^ wttA? I was toid from the very beginning everything was God's work. Everything had a purpose. Somebody was in charge. Somebody made these things happen. What w w confusing— I couidn't quite answ er it, but 1 was wiiiing to say, "Give me some time and I'M find out."— was why the hum an suffering, if God is aii mercifui and ail ioving and ail understanding, how could he aliow war and distress? Despair? The human suffering. And i never quite understood that. I probably, you know, don't really even quite understand that today. DA/ yoM re/ote t/?ot ^Mc.st;'oM to yoMr own /z'/e, w/zz'c/z /?o<T Acer? very /zorJ? Yeah. I came up with the conclusion that we all have a cross to bear as part o f our own human sacrifice to get there. He doesn't give us anymore than we can handle. I still believe that today, although I don't really practice a whole great deal. But I believe that. Trust me, if 1 was gonna die tomorrow and 1 knew I was gonna die tomorrow, I'd be at mass today and I'd be goin' to confession tonight and I'd be gettin' my a[ct] together. In a New York minute! 'Cause I y e w the idea of goin' to hell. 10 7or/qy? Today. 1 believe in God. Yes. I may have some questions with my reiigion, with my church. But I beiieve in it and I trust it. I don't always agree with all of its stand[s]— [its] position, for instance, with hom osexuality. 1 don't accept the mere idea o f #wy religion telling me ... . It's a great fa$ade that they have, and 1 have a problem with it, this idea that, "We love the sinner but hate the sin." To me, that's a wash. That's a cop-out. That's like Don't Ask, Don't T ell.H [/#M g^] It's interesting, because it w as at [Joe Amrine's] Boys Ranch that 1 found 1 could play baseball and I could throw a side arm curve ball and a sinker. God, it was great to be a pitcher. And I was fast at second and third and short stop. And 1 could bat home runs. First time in my life— t/:e /zr.st twie /n wy /;/e— my peers wanted me. If it was just to play on their side in the baseball game. A nd that's what I felt. That's what 1 recognized. And it was then that I realized that, you know, 1 don't need my father's approval. Not even to play baseball. 1 can play baseball w ithout 'im. And that idea o f baseball lived with me for a long time. It was later in life w hen someone asked me, "What're you thinkin' about?" 1 said, "Baseball game." "Oh, really?" I said, "Yeah. It's the bottom o f the ninth, the bags [bases] are loaded, it's a tie ball game. 1 have a 3-2 count and here comes the pitch." And when 1 woke up they said, "How'd we do on the ball game?" 1 remember. 1 said, "We hit a home run." And that was the day that 1 had cancer and 1 lost my eye. And when 1 woke up from surgery 1 said, "Yeah, we hit a home run." Yeah, I've been hittin' a lot o f home runs ever since. I said, "I'll never get away from the batter's cage." It was also at that place that I learned to serve mass and my faith was growing. It was stronger. The idea o f becoming a priest was so permanent with me. I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to graduate from grammar school, I wanted to graduate high school, 1 wanted to go to the minor seminary and I wanted to study and one day 1 wanted my tomz/re 12 and one day 1 wanted to get my theological degree, my doctorate in theology, and I wanted to be a priest and 1 wanted to be ordained and be the poorest among the poor. I didn't want a rich parish in San Francisco or in N ew York. And drive a fancy car. 1 wanted to go to places like communist China where I could stay on the cheap and baptize prisoners in a courtyard over a water fountain. That, to me, it might be theater, but that was re#/ and that was /wper#t/ve and /wport##t. And it wasn't until a couple of years later that that same dream shifted to places like Appalachia. And poor hamlets in 11 New Jersey. Places tater in my life as an adu!t that I got to see. And 1 saw Appa)achia. I saw Biacks in the South. And, yeah ... . I can't explain it. AH o f that was like something you put in a bag and you carry it w ith ya. And 1 carried it with me all my life. Right now, today, I got my bag, my bag's sittin' right here! [yo/v /Ac cAo;'r next to Ann] And it's the strength. It's where you draw your xtrewgtA and you draw your courage. It's where you draw your AeA^evaA;7Ay, it's w here you draw your yox.s/oo. It's gat-wrenching, but it's wholesome. If ax tA/'x /<7eo to Aecowe a pr;'ext Aora ew/;re7y oat o/yoor own tnner natare? 1 think it w as my experience. Da/ yoa Aave a nrentor on a wo<7e/? Not until later. Which was com ing up very soon. It was Boys Ranch that 1 serv