One Man's Tale

The son of Harold and Edna, I was born between an older brother, Jeffery, and a sister, Cheryl. Additionally, I take pleasure in having two half-siblings from West Virginia, another, yet older brother named John, and an older sister, Mildred. Born in the state of Ohio and raised in the town of Galion, I held a rural view of life from an early age until shortly after I graduated from high school. My father, employed by the General Motors Corporation, worked in the tool and die division. My mother, worked for an ammunition manufacturing plant for some time, yet was basically a housewife who cared for her children at home.

Growing up in a small town such as Galion was, in retrospect, not such a bad thing. In fact, I’m actually glad to have been raised there instead of the larger cities that I have visited and lived in for much of my life. A manufacturing town of approximately nine thousand people, Galion was a place where, much like the television bar Cheer’s, "everyone knew your name." Still though, my hometown was too small to satisfy the needs of a growing youth and I soon found myself wanting to experience more of life than Galion had to offer.

Some of my fondest memories from growing up are of the mini-vacations that our family would take on a regular basis to a place called Dogwood Valley. Not far from our home, Dogwood Valley was actually a small, family owned campground. Most certainly a place for children, it was a spot where we hiked in the woods, jumped on trampolines, and even entered greased-watermelon races each weekend. We had a small pop-up camper, a Starcraft as I recall, that slept eight. Instead of staying in the camper, however, my brother and I would often pitch a tent, preferring instead to sleep in the great out doors. As I became older, I came to realize that it was those mini-vacations that helped form my current love affair with nature.

Other vacations hold fond memories as well. Cherokee Indian villages, weeping willow trees of the Carolina’s, the exotic atmosphere of New Orleans, and even a crazy underground roller coaster at Silver Dollar City in Branson, Missouri, all are remembered vividly. Perhaps what I remember best about all of those vacations, however, was that I just absolutely loved to travel. Anywhere, anyplace, was just fine by me; the farther from home it was, the more I seemed to enjoy and appreciate it.

During school, I became involved in the art of photography. Working on the yearbook staff, I realized that photography was to forever become a part of my life. Building upon this base, I soon began working part-time for my hometown newspaper, The Galion Inquirer. I thoroughly enjoyed my work and took photographs of everything from sporting events to city council meetings. Indeed, perhaps the most memorable moments I experienced in that time were caused by the rush of adrenaline that followed an early morning telephone call informing me of an accident or fire somewhere. Hurrying from the house, I would jump into my car in hot pursuit of pictures that would give meaning to the feelings coursing through me.

But it was meeting a new photographer for The Inquirer in 1977 that most changed my life. Tom was a young journalist fresh from Miami University when he joined the newspaper staff. Uncomfortable himself in a place where he had no friends, the two of us instantly hit it off. Still my best friend to this day, Tom has stood by me through thick and thin and has yet to waiver in his belief that I could do anything that I put my mind to doing. Many people go through their lives without having someone close enough to them to call a friend; in Tom I have not only the luxury of having a friend, but also a lifelong companion.

High school was not always easy for me, however, and perhaps because of the small community in which I grew up, my preference for men came to be well known. While never openly announcing that I was homosexual, many of my fellow classmates soon came to realize that I was gay. In fact, during the eleventh grade in 1976, I was attacked by several high school bullies, losing several teeth in the process. Luckily, it was during that same period that I became friends with a number of teachers - teachers that would foster in me beliefs that I could be whatever I wanted to be. More importantly, they helped me to realize that I was not the only gay person in the world, that I was not alone.

The summer of 1977 was a grand time for me. Not only had I had just graduated from high school, but I was about to take my first trip abroad. Traveling to Spain with members of the high school Spanish club, I gained invaluable experience with another culture for the first time and fell instantly in love with traveling once more. Shortly after my return from Europe I made my first move away from home. Traveling to Florida with a friend of mine, I lived near Tampa for several months. Unfortunately, though enjoying the warm weather, Florida and I did not agree with each other and I moved back to my parents’ home. However, having experienced life away from the nest for even this short a period of time, I knew that it would be only a little while before I moved out on my own once again.

 Upon my return I became involved with the local newspaper once again. One weekend, I traveled to Kings Island, an amusement park located near Cincinnati. Posing as a photographer from The Cincinnati Enquirer, I was able to obtain backstage entrance to an event portrayed as "The Hollywood Teen Show", which featured then-current television stars such as Scott Baio, Willie Aames, Todd Bridges, and "The Incredible Hulk’s" Lou Ferrigno. I ended up spending the weekend in a hotel room with Aames, star of the television series "Eight is Enough", and members of his band. Photographing the group throughout the weekend, I was invited to not only "go west young man," but also offered a place to live in the greater Los Angeles area. Though I would not know a soul there other than my new found friends, I pondered this tempting idea for about as long as it took for me to drive back home to Galion. At the age of nineteen, I made my first solo trip cross-country via Interstate 70. What an exciting time life was for me back then, cruising down highways and byways that I had never traversed before. Unbeknownst to me, I soon discovered that an entire world waited for me to explore.

After living in Southern California for some time, I left Willie and the gang and moved to the city of West Hollywood. Ah, West Hollywood, what can I say to give you justice! The San Francisco of Southern California, it was a place to see and be seen. Movie stars were abundant, as were the glitzy clubs and restaurants that they frequented. I felt that I had found not only other gays, but also my true home. Indeed, while working for a photo lab specializing in producing background sets for major motion picture studios, I soon met my first lover, John, and built a life with him there for almost six years. A strapping youth full of vim and vigor, John made my life feel complete. Of course things are not always as they seem, and neither was my life with John. We separated in Boulder, Colorado, shortly after an extended trip through Europe where I’d caught him in bed with another, one with whom I just could not compete – a woman. Last that I heard John was happily married, with children. We remained friends for several years after our breakup, and, ironically, it was while with him that I met my second long-term lover, Jeff.

Life with Jeff was an often-sordid one and one in which I will dwell in detail about here, yet that time was one that found me sailing to new heights emotionally. Another well-built youth from Colorado, Jeff and I lived in the Denver suburb of Aurora for a short while before moving to the greater Los Angeles area. I soon found a job as the manager of a one-hour photo lab, and we proceeded to setup house in Pasadena. More thoughts about Jeff in a moment though, first things must come first or so they say.

Drugs! Have I mentioned drugs at all yet? Well, if not, then this might just be the perfect opportunity to bring them up. I’ve done an awful lot of them that’s for sure. I started out when I was in high school smoking marijuana, did my first cocaine with the Aames gang in Southern California, shopped for hashish with John in the coffee shops of Amsterdam, and almost drowned in a underground bathhouse’s hot tub doing the "love drug" ecstasy with Jeff in Denver. I’ve seen my share and done my part, learning the hard lessons of life along the way. There are two things I can say for sure about all of those experiences. First and foremost is that I’m glad that I did them twenty years ago and not in today’s atmosphere of "smoke a joint and go to jail". Secondly, I’m glad that I learned enough from them to quit. To think of all of the time, money and wasted effort I’ve spent over the years is quite disheartening in retrospect. Yet I cannot say that doing drugs didn’t have its moments either. Some of the emotions caused by their ingestion still remain vivid in my memories and were perhaps some of the strongest I have felt in my entire life.

Of course, with all of the drug-induced ups come the roller coaster-downs. I had always been a firm believer in an old druggie saying, "You can go ahead and do drugs, but never let the drugs do you." That, unfortunately, is what Jeff allowed to begin happening, causing the breakup of our relationship. Still deeply in love with him, I tried for too many months to show him the problems he was causing for himself, all to no avail. Several months later, Jeff and I parted ways after almost five years together and we eventually lost track of each other. As it happens, I rediscovered Jeff only a few months ago through the power of the computer. Now living back in the Denver area with the man he met toward the end of our breakup, he told me that his partner’s life had not changed much over the course of time, making his life a "living hell." I wish for him all the best and still love him deep within my heart.

Cocktails in a Los Angeles gay bar led to meeting Donald, a much older man than either Jeff or myself. Don, a political consultant for Ronald Reagan’s staff during his presidential term in office, was part of the "just say no to drugs" crowd. He was also a firm believer in the recreational use of cocaine, and, for obvious reasons, the three of us became good friends. In fact, Don and I remained friends even after my relationship with Jeff had ended. Some years later, however, I learned that Don had contracted AIDS through unprotected sex.

Accepting a job with a photographic equipment manufacturer, I found myself in northern New Jersey, just outside of New York. Though New York was a city large enough for me to enjoy, it was by no means a replacement for Los Angeles. Shortly after my initial move East, I was relocated to Long Island. While living near this eastern edge of the country, I met my third – and so far last – long-term lover, Jimmy. Shortly thereafter, I accepted a position as a franchise consultant for a nationwide chain of one-hour photo labs and off we went back to New Jersey, only this time to Atlantic City. This relationship with Jimmy was short lived, and he returned to live his parents in North Carolina.

I remained in Atlantic City for several years more, but when the opportunity arose, I took a transfer back to Los Angeles. It was during this period that I learned Donald was dying, and I tended to his needs whenever possible. Donald had roots in Europe, and, almost on his deathbed, told me of his desire to see his homeland once again. At his request, I accompanied him on a two-week luxury cruise through the fjords of Scandinavia. Don died the day following his return to Los Angeles; all that remain of his life story are a few memories I now have tucked away as photographs.

Managing a photo lab near Beverly Hills, I had occasion about a year later to experience the Los Angeles riot. Stark images remain embedded in my mind from those trying times; images of burning buildings, fires in the night skies, and armored personnel vehicles patrolling city streets. Shaken, I accepted yet another transfer back to New Jersey.

I’ve had many great experiences in my life, and continue to hope my life ahead will contain just as many memorable moments. Sure, at times I feel somewhat lost in my direction of life, but then who doesn’t? I know only that I hope to enjoy my remaining years and care not what path life will take me on. Along the way, I’ve come to enjoy almost all things having to do with the great outdoors. I’ve trekked the deserts of Southern California, hiked along the Appalachian Trail, trekked the Alaskan wilderness, and bicycled through Europe. I’ve done much with my years, but there is much that remains to do. For me, there's always another adventure just ahead, another journey to a place I’ve only dreamed of exploring.

For the sake of brevity, much of this tale has obviously been left out. Perhaps, one day, I will write the unabridged version of my life. What a wonderful trip down memory lane it would be for me to undertake, much as writing this has been.

Ever onward and upward