Harvey Milk: Milk vs. The Machine

Milk vs.The Machine
Nina Chan
ncnc publishing company
s a n f r a n c i s c o

Copyright © 2010 by NC Publishing Company
123 Main Street, San Francisco, California
Printed in United States of America
All rights reserved.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Chan, Nina
Milk vs. The Machine/Nina Chan.
The text in this book is composed in:
Body Copy: Optima Regular (9/12)
Title Page: Rockwell Regular (60pt)
Book Design by: Nina Chan
ISBN 0-8109-3527-9

“If a bullet should enter my brain, let that
bullet destroy every closet door.”

pg. 11
pg. 39
SUPERVISOR MILK
pg. 65
HOPE LIVES ON
HARVEY RUNS AGAIN
pg. 97
EARLY YEARS

“All young people,
regardless of sexual
orientation or identity,
deserve a safe and
supportive environment
in which to achieve
their full potential.”

growing up
Milk was born in Woodmere, New York, on
Long Island, to William Milk and Minerva Karns.
He was the younger son of Lithuanian Jewish
parents and the grandson of Morris Milk, a
department store owner who helped to organize
the first synagogue in the area. As a child, Harvey
was teased for his protruding ears, big nose, and
oversized feet, and tended to grab attention as a
class clown. He played football in school, and
developed a passion for opera; in his teens, he
acknowledged his homosexuality, but kept it
a guarded secret. Under his name in the high
school yearbook, it read, “Glimpy Milk—and
they say WOMEN are never at a loss for words”.
Milk graduated from Bay Shore High School
in Bay Shore, New York, in 1947 and attended
New York State College for Teachers in Albany
(now the State University of New York at Albany)
from 1947 to 1951, majoring in mathematics.
He wrote for the college newspaper and earned
a reputation as a gregarious, friendly student.
None of his friends in high school or college
suspected that he was gay. As one classmate
remembered, “He was never thought of as a
possible queer—that’s what you called them
then—he was a man’s man”.
Returning to NewYork, he took a job teaching
high school. By this time, Milk was living
openlywithhislover,JoeCampbell,thoughhestill
kept his homosexuality hidden from his family.
After a couple of years, Milk left teaching. He
tried his hand at a number of other occupations
before landing a job with the Wall Street
investment firm Bache and Company in 1963.
At Bache, Milk discovered that he had a knack
for finance and investment, and his rise through
the corporate world was swift.
Growing Up 13
Childhood in New York

14 Milk vs. The Machine
Long Island, to William Milk and Minerva
Karns. He was the younger son of Lithuanian
Jewish parents and the grandson of Morris
Milk, a department store owner who helped to
organize the first synagogue in the area. As a
child, Harvey was teased for his protruding ears,
big nose, and oversized feet, and tended to grab
attention as a class clown. He played football in
school, and developed a passion for opera; in
his teens, he acknowledged his homosexuality,
but kept it a guarded secret. Under his name
in the high school yearbook, it read, “Glimpy
Milk—and they say WOMEN are never at a loss
for words”.
(now the State University of New York at Albany)
Returning to New York, Milk took a job
teaching high school. By this time, Milk was
Fig-1: Young Harvey, Coney Island, New York, 1942 Fig-2: Harvey Milk as a young boy in Woodmere, New York
living openly with his lover, Joe Campbell,
though he still kept his homosexuality hidden
from his family. After a couple of years, Milk left
teaching. He tried his hand at a number of other
occupations before landing a job with the Wall
Street investment firm Bache and Company in
1963. At Bache, Milk discovered that he had a
knack for finance and investment, and his rise
through the corporate world was swift.

Growing Up 15
Milk was born in Woodmere, NewYork, on Long
Island, to William Milk and Minerva Karns. He
was the younger son of Lithuanian Jewish parents
and the grandson of Morris Milk, a department
store owner who helped to organize the first
synagogue in the area. As a child, Harvey was
teased for his protruding ears, big nose, and
oversized feet, and tended to grab attention as a
class clown. He played football in school, and
developed a passion for opera; in his teens, he
acknowledged his homosexuality, but kept it
a guarded secret. Under his name in the high
school yearbook, it read, “Glimpy Milk—and
they say WOMEN are never at a loss for words”.
(now the State University of NewYork at Albany)
Fig-4: Harvey Milk and friends in Los Angeles, California, 1955

Fig-4: Harvey Milk in navy dress whites, circa 1955

Growing Up 17
Long Island, to William Milk and Minerva Karns.
He was the younger son of Lithuanian Jewish
parents and the grandson of Morris Milk,
a department store owner who helped to
for words”. Milk graduated from Bay Shore High
School in Bay Shore, New York, in 1947 and at-
tended New York State College for Teachers in
Albany (now the State University of New York at
Albany) from 1947 to 1951, majoring in mathe-
matics. He wrote for the college newspaper and
earned a reputation as a gregarious, friendly stu-
dent. None of his friends in high school or col-
lege suspected that he was gay. As one classmate
then—he was a man’s man”. Returning to New
York, Milk took a job teaching high school. By
this time, Milk was living openly with his lover,
Joe Campbell, though he still kept his homosex-
uality hidden from his family.
Fig-5: Harvey Milk in Texas, circa 1957

castro camera
for words”.
(now the State University of New York) from
1947 to 1951, majoring in mathematics. He
wrote for the college newspaper and earned
Starting the Business
Fig-6: Rich Nichols and Harvey Milk, February 1977

Castro Camera 19
Despite the clarity of his populist vision,
his piercing assessment of the socio-economic
crisis confronting contemporary America, and
his eloquent defense of personal liberties,
HarveyMilkhasbeenforgottenbythemajorityof
Americans.Hisisnotahouseholdname,invoking
only blank stares or the faintest glimmer of
recognition.Itistragicallyironicthatthenotorious
“twinkie defense” of his assassin is better
remembered by Americans than the mercurial
Milk himself. Those who do remember Milk
remember him only as a “minor” footnote in
American history--the first openly homosexual
man to be popularly elevated into elective
office in the United States. To remember Milk
solely for his sexual orientation, however, is not
only to misunderstand him, but his concept of
gay pride as well. Harvey Milk was one of the
most charismatic and pragmatic populists of
the past half-century, a man of remarkable
organizationaltalentwhonevercompromisedhis
vision of “a city of neighborhoods” nor sought
to hide his homosexuality.
Harvey Milk never intended to enter the
political arena until he moved to San Francisco
in 1972. Prior to Milk’s arrival, San Francisco’s
burgeoning homosexual population lacked
a sense of community, and consequently its
political empowerment had been stunted. note
1 The city’s homosexual intelligentsia--weary of
bearing the brutal brunt of police persecution
and public vilification--had organized several
“educational” societies--designed to enlighten
public opinion on the subject of homosexuality
in the early seventies. Since the idea of an
openly homosexual running for office in a city
which still classified homosexuality as “a crime
against nature”--punishable by up to ten years
in prison--seemed ludicrous to the homosexual
intelligentsia, an integral component of these
societies were their political action committees.
The homosexual PACs quickly succeeded in
drawing sympathetic “liberal friends” from the
Democratic party to their convocations, who-
-in return for their endorsement, promised
to shield open homosexuals from officially
sanctioned victimization. For the first time in
American history, “mainstream” political figures
treated their homosexual constituents with dignity
and respect, actively courting their support. The
success of homosexual PACs was due in no
small part to the fact that, “in this city of fewer
than 700,000 people, approximately one out of
every five adults and perhaps one out of every

most charismatic and pragmatic populists of the
past half-century, a man of remarkable organi-
zational talent who never compromised his vision
of “a city of neighborhoods” nor sought to hide
his homosexuality.
Democratic party to their convocations, who in
return for their endorsement, promised to shield
open homosexuals from officially sanctioned
victimization. For the first time in American
history, “mainstream” political figures treated
their homosexual constituents with dignity and
respect, actively courting their support. The
success of homosexual PACs was due in no
small part to the fact that, “in this city of fewer
than 700,000 people, approximately one out of
every five adults and perhaps one out of every
three or four voters was gay.” note 2 At least half
of the total homosexual population--like Milk
himself--had moved to San Francisco between
1969 and 1977, bringing with them a bold
assertiveness which had been sparked by the
Stonewall riots of 1969 in New York City. Milk
recognized the parallels between the growing
gay enclaves and the traditional ethnic
neighborhoods that made up the crazy-quilt
fabric of San Francisco. Many of these ethnic
enclaves--such as the Irish and Italian sections of
the city--had long since turned what had initially
been a liability--their insularity--into a source of
municipal power. It seemed only logical to Milk
that the gay neighborhoods follow suit. If the
homosexual vote was significant enough for “re-
spectable” politicians to run the risk of alienat-
ing San Francisco’s conservative on themselves.
Fig-7: Voter registration table in front of Castro Camera, 1974

Fig-8: Scott Smith selling film at the San Francisco Gay
Freedom Day Parade, 1974

The Campaign Team 23
Despite the clarity of his populist vision, his
piercing assessment of the socio-economic
crisis confronting contemporary America, and
his eloquent defense of personal liberties,
Harvey Milk has been forgotten by the majority of
Americans. His is not a household name, invoking
only blank stares or the faintest glimmer
of recognition. It is ironic that the notorious
“twinkie defense” of his assassin is better
remembered by Americans than the mercurial
Milk himself. Those who do remember Milk
remember him only as a “minor” footnote in
American history--the first openly homosexual
man to be popularly elevated into elective
office in the United States. To remember Milk
solely for his sexual orientation, however, is
not only to misunderstand him, but his concept
of gay pride as well. Harvey Milk was one of
the most charismatic and pragmatic populists
of the past half-century, a man of remarkable
organizationaltalentwhonevercompromisedhis
vision of “a city of neighborhoods” nor sought
to hide his homosexuality.
Lover and Friends
Democratic party to their convocations, who--in
return for their endorsement, promised to shield
open homosexuals from officially sanctioned
victimization. For the first time in American
history, “mainstream” political figures treated
their homosexual constituents with dignity and
respect, actively courting their support.
the campaign team

scott smith
Campaign Manager
Known affectionately to friends as “the widow Milk,”
Scott Smith was born in Key West, Florida, to a Navy
couple who raised him in Jackson, Mississippi. He
moved to New York in 1969, where he met and fell
in love with Harvey Milk. Their relationship lasted
seven years. In 1972 they moved to San Francisco and
opened Castro Camera. After Harvey’s assassination
Scott fought for and was awarded $5,500 in survivor’s
death benefits by teh San Francisco retirement board.
He died of AIDS-related pneumonia at age shortly after
attending the premiere of the opera Harvey Milk
“For a lot of straight people, Harvey was the first
nonstereotypical gay person they had ever met. Harvey
was just like everybody else. With his humor and his
caring for people, he made people like him.”
Fig-9: Scott Smith in New York City subway, 1970s

anne kronenberg
Campaign Manager
Anne Kronenberg began her long career in government service as an
aide to Supervisor Milk after having been campaign manager for
his historic election to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors.
Anne was appointed to the State Board of Podiatric Medicin in
1998, serving as the President of the Board for three year and
Vice President fo the Board for three years and Vice President for
two. Prior to her tenure with the Department
of Public Health, she was Director of
the San Francisco Mayor’s Criminal
Justice Council from 1991-1994.
She co-chared the San Francisco
Local Homeless Coordinating
Board for three years, and she has
chaired the San Francisco Board of
Supervisors’ Single Room Occupancy Task
Force since its inception in 1998.
“When I came to San Francisco I became involved
in the lesbian movement. Harvey called me his little
dykette. I got so much from Harvey it’s hard to think
that I offered him anything. Loyalty, dedication, a willing-
ness to just soak it all in, I suppose. I was a sponge. Fig-10: Anne Kronenberg, 1977

cleve jones
Cleve Jones, founder of The NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt,
was born in West Lafayette, Indiana, in 1954.
Cleve’s career as an activist began in San Francisco during the
turbulent 1970s, when he was befriended by Harvey Milk. After Milk’s
election Cleve worked in the office as a student intern while studying
poltical science at San Francisco State University. After Harvey’s
death Cleve dropped out of school and worked in Sacramento as a
legislative consultant to California State Assembly Speakers Leo T.
McCarthy and Willie L. Brown, Jr.
in 1982 he returned to San Francsico to work int he
district office of State Assemblyman Art Agnos. Cleve was
elected to three terms on the San Francisco Democratic
County Central Committee, and served on local and
state commissions for juvenile justice and delinquency
prevention for juvenile justice and delinquency
prevention and the Mission Mental Health Com-
munity Advisory Board.
Recognizing the threat of AIDS, Cleve co-
founded the San Francisco AIDS Foundation in 1983.
He conceived the idea of AIDS Memorial Quilt at a candle-
light memorial for Harvey Milk in 1985; he created the first quilt
panel in honor of his close friend Marvin Feldman in 1987.
“The first time I met Harvey was at the corner of Castro and 18th.
He was passing out flyers. And he was flirty, like “You look good, I like
the way your pants fit.” But not all in a way that was creepy.”
Fig-11: Cleve Jones, 1979

michaelwong
Michael Wong met Harvey Milk in 1973 at a
candidates’ night event. At the time, Michael
was active in the SF Young Democrats, United
Black Education Caucus, an Chinese American
Democratic Club. It was in the Fred Harris
for President campaign that Harvey won over
many of his “straight” volunteers and friends,
including Mr. Wong. As a result, Michael
became an advisor for Harvey’s 1975 campaign
for Supervisor and the 1976 State Assembly
race, where the two became good friends.
Milk soon began affectionately referring to
Michael as “Lotus Blossom.” Michael retired
from politics for a time after Bill Clinton won
election in 1996, only to be pulled back into the
poltical scene by the Barack Obama campaign
in 2008.
“I thought he was a nut. At the time Texas had
somebody killing a lot of men, it was Texas
homosexual murders. Harvey thought that he
could get publicity ‘cause he was openly gay
and the muderer might shoot him at a candidate
night thing.”
Milk’s Advisor
Fig-12: Supervisor Milk and Michael Wong, 1978

Milk went on to deliver a theatrical hellfire and
brimstone populist speech that stole the show
from the more seasoned politicos who sought
the club’s endorsement. Milk probably could
have had the club’s endorsement by accalmation
—except that when it came time to vote, Irwin
and Wong repeated what Milk had told them
before the meeting started. Wong also noted
that the established gay leadership was fretting
that Milk’s penchant for off-the-wall comments
would give the local gay movement a black eye.
Harvey lost the endorsement.
The night typified Harvey’s first foray into
electoral politics in the 1973 elections for the
board of supervisors. He was among the most
issue-conscious candidtates in the campaign,
delighting liberals with his programs to wrest
control of the city from real estate developers,
tourist barons, and downton coporate interests.
He had no intention of just being a gay
candidate. His fiery oration rambled at times,
but still enraptured audiences. His wit and
showmanship gave him all the markings of
a true San Francisco character, the kind of
Politics as Theatre
Fig-13: Harvey Milk as a clown, 1978

The Early Years 29
idiosyncratic enrage that the city had long
embraced as among its chief natural resources.
That, however did not mean the city was going
to elect him to run the government.
Harvey became bored o working jigsaw
ouzzles as the spring days of 1973 lengthened
into summer, and Harvey hated being bored,
Dianne Feinstein and four other board members
were up for reelection, but Harvey had not
thougt much about going into polticis, until a
pompus bureaucrat, a dedicated teacher, and
an absentminded attorney general all got him so
mad that he had to do something.
A chubby state bureaucrat appeared at
Castro Camera shortly after the business opened
to sternly warn Milk that he could not legally
run his business until he paid the state a $100
deposit against sales taxes. The pronouncement
rekindled all of Milk’s old resentments about
govrenment interference in the economy. “You
mean to tell me that if I don’t have one hundred
dollars, I can’t run a business in free-enterprise
America?” Harvey shouted. “You mean I have to
be wealthy to operate a business in the State of
California?”
The ruffled official was not about to be
pushed around by some hippie camera shop
owner in some run-down neighborhood, so he
started shouting right back. Customers who had
been waiting for film quietly exited, prompting
Milk to rant further, “I’m paying your fucking
salary and you’re driving my customers away.”
The bullheaded Milk stormed around state
offices for weeks, upbraiding officials and finally
bargaining the deposit down to thirty dollars.
Peace might have returned to Castro Camera

GeneralJohnMitchell’sperformanceattheSenate
Watergate hearings. Milk kept the portable
television set in the camera store every day to
watch the hearings. Customers frequently came
in to find the wild-eyed, ponytailed over-aged
hippie screaming at John Mitchell: “You lying
son of a bitch, you lying son of a bitch.” One
friend had to physically restrain Harvey from
kicking in the screen when Mitchell started
droning through his “I don’t recall” responses to
questions about whether he was indeed trying
to undermine the democratic processes during
the 1972 elections.
That was it. The country was going to hell
in handbasket. Liars and crooks at its helm.
Bureaucrats could run roughshod over small
businessmen. Teachers weren’t being allowed to
do their jobs. From all over the city, meanwhile,
came stories that the 1973 elections had started
to engender the traditional pre-election cleanup.
Harvey figured he coud win with gay and hippie
votes alone. Just before the filing deadline,
Harvey decided on his eleventh hour candidacy.
During the sixties and seventies, a steadily
increasing number of San Francisco’s industries
fled the city, opting to build new plants in the
suburbs, rather than overhaul their aging and
antiquated inner-city facilities. This urban flight
eroded the city’s poorer neighborhoods, whose
blue collar residents--mostly blacks and hispanics
who had relied on the plants for their
livelihood--could not afford to follow their jobs
to the suburbs. Instead of offering business
incentives to remain in San Francisco, the city’s
civil administration--whose campaign had been
heavily backed by developers, construction
unions, and real estate concerns--launched an
aggressive “urban renewal” campaign, which
led to the razing of large segments of San Fran-
cisco’s poorer ethnic neighborhoods to make
room for office complexes and a mass transit
system designed to lure tourists and corporate
headquarters to the city.
The fruits of the machine’s short-sighted
“urban renewal” policy, was a shimmering
skyline which was invaded daily by hordes of
suburban-dwelling white-collar workers. At
night, the skyline lay cold and vacant in the
moonlight--its serene sterility obliterating the
memory of the once vibrant neighborhood
upon which it stood. The sterility of the sky-
line, however, was deceptive. “The scar that’s
left isn’t just the empty office building or the
now vacant lot,” Milk warned, “it’s the worker
who can no longer provide for his family, the
teenager who suddenly awakens from the
American Dream to find that all the jobs have
gone south for the duration.” The city had been
mutilatedbythemachine;itswoundslefttofester,
astheinnercityneighborhoodscrumbled,andthe
crime rate soared. “You see the empty buildings
[where businesses used to be], but you don’t see
the hopelessness, the loss of pride, the anger,”
warned Milk.
Milk passionately believed that the “true
function of politics is not just to pass laws, but
to give hope.” If the problems of the cities are
not addressed, he warned, America’s cities will
plunge headlong into “the real abyss that lies
not too far ahead, when a disappointed people
lose their hope forever. When that happens,
everything we cherish will be lost.”The machine
had betrayed the inner-city, selling it out to “
carpet-baggers who have fled to the suburbs,”
leaving behind omnipresent “fire hazards” in
every inner city neighboorhood irregardless
of ethnicity. Milk viewed American cities as
smoldering tinderboxes, which--unless defused,
from the inside out--would continue to violently
erupt, until the entire urban infrastructure of
America was consumed by flames of rage.

The Early Years 31Fig-14: Harvey Milk and friends

Fig-15: Harvey Milk, Sheriff Richard Hongisto, and Joyce Garay, 1977

“Come out to your
friends if indeed they
are your friends. Come
out to your neighbors,
to your fellow workers,
to the people who work
where you eat and
shop…”
In his campaign speeches of 1973-1977, Milk outlined his plans to bridge
the deepening divide between the haves and the have-nots which “machines”
across the country were creating. The core of Milk’s populism was the simple
belief that “the American Dream starts with the neighborhoods--if we wish
to rebuild our cities, we must first rebuild our neighborhoods.” note 16 The
city could only be saved by the industry of its residents, Milk maintained, not
“governmental charity.” Rather than “face the problems it’s created,” and
taking “responsibility for the problems it’s ignored,” the machine sought to
bribe the urban poor with welfare programs. note 17 Instead of empowering
the urban poor, these programs had actually trapped them in “concrete jungles,”
caged within a vicious cycle of dependence. In order to break this dependence,
Milk maintained, the neighborhoods must firmly grasp the reigns of power, in
order to lead the city “down the route no major city has ever tried:
That is the route that has little room for political payoffs and deals; that is the
route that leaves little in the way of power politics; that is the route of making a
city an exciting place for all to live: not just an exciting place for a few to live!
A place for the individual and individual rights. There is no political gain in this
nonmonied route and, thus you do not find people with high political ambitions
leading this way. There are no statistics to quote--no miles of highways built to
brag about, no statistics of giant buildings built under your administration. What
you have instead is a city that breathes, one that is alive, where the people are
more important than highways.
By reprioritizing government spending, Milk believed, the neighborhoods
could begin the process of rebuilding the city from within, by utilizing the
resources which the machine had squandered. Simply by mandating that all
city employees must be residents of the city, the neighborhoods would have
taken a giant step forward, Milk argued. From a fiscal standpoint, it made no
sense to do otherwise, since city employees are paid with the tax revenues the
city has raised from its residents. If the employee lives in the city, the money

The Teamsters lauchned a boycott in response
to Coors’ anti-union stance. There was a lot
of racism in the company and, of course,
they wouldn’t hire gay people. But the Coors
boycott was so important because Harvey met
this very straight, older Teamster organizer Allan
Baird and Harvey saw this opportunity, which
was one of his most significant contributions,
to form a gay-labor alliance. Allan and Harvey
becamefastfriends.ThiswasHarvey’sgift,hisabil-
ity to befriend and create genuine relationships.
He was all about connecting, whether it was
reaching out to an old Irish widow who didn’t
like gay boys smoking pot on her stairs or to a
macho truckers’ union. But beyond that, those
of us from the left who were more political got
to see the gay struggle as being part of a larger
struggle for peace and social justice around the
world.The trade off was, “I’ll make sure that
Coors beer isn’t sold in any gay bars, but I
hope you will increase the number of gay truck
drivers, gay delivery men.” It worked! The Team-
sters supported Harvey.
The beer drivers’ local was striking the six
major beer distributors who adamantly refused
to sign the proposed union contract. “These
guys are like me,” explained Baird, who had
trucked newspapers before working his way
Coors Boycott
Fig-16: Coors Boycott poster and button, 1976

intot he Teamsters hierarchy. “They can’t be
out of work long.” So far Baird had enlisted a
group representing over four hundred Arab
grocers and the federation of Chinese grocers
who would boycott scab drivers. If gay bars
chipped in, they could win it.
“I’ll do what I can,” said Harvey, pausing to
add one condition. “You’ve got to promise me
one thing. You’ve got to help bring gays into the
Teamsters union. We buy a lot of beer that your
union delivers. It’s only fair that we get a share
of the jobs.”
Baird liked Milk’s straightforwardness. After
years in the give and take of union politics, the
beefyTeamsterthoughthecouldspotabullshitter.
Harvey Milk was no bullshitter. Baird grew
more impressed when he later learned Milk
was int he middle of is campaign for supervisor.
any other politician would have asked for an
endorsement, he thought. Milk just asked for
jobs. The project gave Milk a chance to test out
his new theories about achieving gay power
through economic clout. He enlisted his friend,
gay publisher Bob Ross, to help connect him to
bar owners and started buttonholing support for
the boycott. Baird was amazed at Milk’s ability
to get press attention for the effort; Milk enjoyed
the symbolism of tying gays to the conservative
Teamsters union.

The boycott worked. Gays provided the
coup de grace shot to the already strained
distributors. Five of the six beer firms signed the
pact. Only Coors reused to settle. Harvey used
the refusal as a basis to launch a more highly
publicized boycott of Coors beer in gay bars.
Baird was surprised not only at Milk’s success,
but by the fact that Harvey was as outraged at
Coors discrimination against Chicanos as by the
fabled Coors antipathy to gays. This guy’s got a
national philosophy, Baird thought.
AtaColoradomeetingwitharch-conservative
William Coors, Baird warned the executive
about the success of the gay boycott and about
the persuasive gay leader who had just made an
impressive showing in the local supervisorial
race. These guys are getting more powerful,
Baird warned, and they’ll be on the unions’
side. Coors acted astonished by the talk. He
didn’t come out and say it, but Baird felt he
could tell what Coors was thinking by the
sneer on his face: Community. Baird kept his
end of the bargain. Gays started driving for
Falstalf, Lucky Lager, Budweiser, and soon all the
distributors, except, of course, Coors. The
biggest recruiting problem came not from
biased employers, but from gays who found it
hard to believe that there would be companies
who were openly not discriminating against
Fig-17: Deton Smith and Harvey Milk, 1976

And so it begins…
Fig-18: Harvey Milk in Gay Day Parade, 1974

“My name is
Harvey Milk and I
want to recruit you.”

for words”.
(now the State University of New York) from
1947 to 1951, majoring in mathematics. He
wrote for the college newspaper and earned
The First Time Around 41
the first time around
First Run, First Lost

Fig-19: Harvey Milk campaigning, 1973

Milk’s reception by the gay political establishment in San Francisco was icy. Jim
Foster, who had by then been active in gay politics for ten years, resented the
newcomer’s asking for his endorsement for a position as prestigious as city
supervisor. Foster told Milk, “There’s an old saying in the Democratic Party. You
don’t get to dance unless you put up the chairs. I’ve never seen you put up the
chairs.” Milk was furious at the patronizing snub, and the conversation marked
the beginning of an antagonistic relationship between the “Alice” Club and
Harvey Milk. Some gay bar owners, still battling police harassment and
unhappy with what they saw as a timid approach by Alice to established
authority in the city, decided to endorse him.
Thoughhehaddriftedthroughhislifethusfar,Milkfoundhisvocation,
according to journalist Frances FitzGerald, who called him a “born
politician”. At first, his inexperience showed. He tried to do without
money, support, or staff, and instead relied on his message of sound
financial management, promoting individuals over large corporations
andgovernment.Hesupportedthereorganizationofsupervisorelections
from a city-wide ballot to district ballots, which was intended to reduce
the influence of money and give neighborhoods more control over their
representatives in city government. He also ran on a socially liberal
platform, opposing government interference in private sexual matters
and favoring the legalization of marijuana. Milk’s fiery, flamboyant
speeches and savvy media skills earned him a significant amount of
press during the 1973 election. He earned 16,900 votes—sweeping the
Castro District and other liberal neighborhoods and coming in 10th place
out of 32 candidates.

At a fundraiser a man approached me and gave me a warm
smile. It was Harvey Milk, the long-haired hippie candidate
for Supervisor. Only now he had short hair and he was clean
shaven. He was also wearing a suit. I was surprised. “Hi
Mike, like the new look?” I told him I was floored. “Well,
you have to make compromises in order to win elections.
I’m running for Supervisor next year and would love to get
your support.”
When Harvey Milk cut his mustache off he said, “I want no
distractions. Fifty people may not like mustaches, and I’m
not gonna lose by 50 votes.” He didn’t have a suit but he
used to pick up leftover laundry from the dry cleaners up on
the corner. You know, the clothing that had been there for
months, he went and picked it up. They gave the suit to him.
The Transformation
“I want no distractions. Fifty people may
not like mustaches, and I’m not gonna
lose by 50 votes.”

AlthoughhewasanewcomertotheCastroDistrict,Milkhadshownleadershipinthesmallcommunity.
He was starting to be taken seriously as a candidate and decided to run again for supervisor in 1975.
He reconsidered his approach and cut his long hair, swore off marijuana, and vowed never to visit
another gay bathhouse again. Milk’s campaigning earned the support of the teamsters, firefighters,
and construction unions. Castro Camera became the center of activity in the neighborhood.
Milk would often pull people off the street to work his campaigns for him—many discovered later
that they just happened to be the type of men Milk found attractive.
Milk favored support for small businesses and the growth of neighborhoods. Since 1968, Mayor
Aliotohadbeenluringlargecorporationstothecitydespitewhatcriticslabeled“theManhattanization
of San Francisco”. As blue-collar jobs were replaced by the service industry, Alioto’s weakened
political base allowed for new leadership to be voted into office in the city. George Moscone was
elected mayor. Moscone had been instrumental in repealing the sodomy law earlier that year in the
California State Legislature. He acknowledged Milk’s influence in his election by visiting Milk’s
electionnightheadquarters,thankingMilkpersonally,andofferinghimapositionasacitycommissioner.
Milk came in seventh place in the election, only one position away from earning a supervisor seat.
Liberal politicians held the offices of the mayor, district attorney, and sheriff.

Despite the new leadership in the city, there
were still conservative strongholds. One of
Moscone’s first acts as mayor was appointing
a police chief to the embattled San Francisco
Police Department (SFPD). He chose Charles
Gain, against the wishes of the SFPD. Most of
the force disliked Gain for criticizing the police
in the press for racial insensitivity and alcohol
abuse on the job, instead of working within
the command structure to change attitudes. By
request of the mayor, Gain made it clear that
gay police officers would be welcomed in the
department; this became national news. Police
under Gain expressed their hatred of him, and
of the mayor for betraying them.
Keeping his promise to Milk, newly elected
Mayor George Moscone appointed him to the
Board of PermitAppeals in 1976, making him the
first openly gay city commissioner in the United
States. Milk, however, considered seeking
a position in the California State Assembly.
The district was weighted heavily in his favor,
as much of it was based in neighborhoods
surrounding Castro Street, where Milk’s sympa-
thizers voted. In the previous race for supervisor,
Milk received more votes than the currently
seated assemblyman. However, Moscone had
made a deal with the assembly speaker that
another candidate should run—Art Agnos.
Furthermore, by order of the mayor, neither
appointed nor elected officials were allowed to
run a campaign while performing their duties.

Milk spent five weeks on the Board of Permit Appeals before Moscone was
forced to fire him when he announced he would run for the California
State Assembly. Rick Stokes replaced him. Milk’s firing, and the backroom
deal made between Moscone, the assembly speaker, and Agnos, fueled his
campaign as he took on the identity of a political underdog. He railed
that high officers in the city and state governments were against him. He
enthusiastically embraced a local independent weekly magazine’s
headline: “Harvey Milk vs. The Machine”.
Milk’s role as a representative of San Francisco’s gay community
expanded during this period. On September 22, 1975, President Gerald
Ford, while visiting San Francisco, walked from his hotel to his car. In the
crowd, Sara Jane Moore raised a gun to shoot him. A former Marine who
had been walking by grabbed her arm as the gun discharged toward the
pavement. The bystander was Oliver “Bill” Sipple, who had left Milk’s
ex-lover Joe Campbell years before, prompting Campbell’s suicide
attempt. The national spotlight was on him immediately. On psychiatric
disability leave from the military, Sipple refused to call himself a hero and
did not want his sexuality disclosed. Milk, however, took advantage of the
opportunity to illustrate his cause that public perception of gay people
would be improved if they came out of the closet. He told a friend: “It’s too
good an opportunity. For once we can show that gays do heroic things, not
just all that ca-ca about molesting children and hanging out in bathrooms.”
Milk contacted a newspaper.
The Second Time Around
the second time around

Fig-22: Harvey Milk protesting, 1977

The Second Time Around 51
Harvey Milk, at last, was a serious candidate. He
was taking on six incumbent supervisors who
were all seeking reelection. His real opponents,
however, were downtown business interests.
“As a small business man, I intend to fight for
the needs of small businesses rather than solely
for the interests of downtown,” he said when
he announced his campaign in March 1975.
He accused the incumbents of having “distorted
priorities” and promised that his “priorities
would be reoriented to the people and not to
the downtown interests.”
Milk outlined a four-point program to
revitalize city neighborhoods. He wanted the
300,000 commuters who daily came from
suburbia to work in corporate high rises and
used expensive city services – to start paying
a “fair share” tax to finance the fire and safety
services that so drained city coffers. He sharply
criticized City Hall’s assessment policies,
which drastically underassessed the hotels and
skyscrapers of powerful campaign contributors,
leaving small homeowners to pick up the tax bill.
Harvey’s strongest tactical allies came
from unions. Mayoral hopeful Supervisor John
Barbagelata had thrust labor against the wall
by putting a number of anti-union initiatives on
the city ballot, rolling back municipal employee
pensions and pay scales. The propositions
horrified the once-powerful unions, but they
were convenient vehicles for dozens of hellfire
and brimstone speeches by incumbents who
were fanning public outrage over a recent
police strike. Harvey was one of the only two
supervisorial candidates in the entire city to
back labor 100 percent. Allan Baird introduced
him to labor leaders, adveritisng the fact that
Milk was committing virtual political suicide by
backing the union cause. Milk had discarded
the bohemian flavor of his first campaign for
three-piee suits he bought secondhand from a
Castro district dry cleaner. Milk’s no-nonsense
straightforward-ness impressed the union men.
As his early months in office wore on,
Harvey gained greater confidence and poise.
He reigned his once galloping pace of speech to
a reasonable center.

“He accused incumbents of having distorted priorities
and promised that his priorities would be reoriented to the
people and not to downtown interests.”

Harvey relished the symbolism of gaining
the endorsements from the city’s three most
macho unions – teamsters, firemen, and hard
hats. When the city’s Union Labor Party held its
endorsement night, Harvey walked away with
the highest tally of any supervisorial candidate.
Publicly, Milk waxed on about how he was
bringing diverse peoples together; privately, he
enjoyed seeing the shock on his gay volunteers’
faceswhengroupsofbeefyfiremenandteamsters
trooped into the camera shop to fold fliers and
stamp envelopes.
Harvey’s labor supporters pleaded with the
old-line labor leaders who ran the Labor Council
togivehimthebackingofallthecouncilmembers.
A mammoth hook and ladder truck appeared in
front of Castro Camera after Milk lost the council
endorsement. Harvey’s new friends were
going to cheer him up. The 1975 municipal
electionsprovedawatershedyearforSanFrancisco
city politics. The social conflicts that had been
Third Time’s the Charm
the third time around

The Third Time Around 53
building during the Alioto administration erupted into the mayoral race. San Francisco faced a
profound turning point.
Blacks yearned for change. Their Filmore neighborhood had once been one of the most thriving
black cultural centers west of New Orleans. Leveled by urban renewal, its people sank into despair.
By 1975, the most influential man in the area was a charismatic minister who preached is own
mixture of populist Christian theology and Marxist politics out of a converted synagogue he called
the PeoplesTemple.The blacks who flocked there had lost their neighborhood; they were not needed
in the sparkling glass and steel skyscrapers in downtown; their hopes lay in the sermons of the
Reverend Jim Jones. He, in turn, could order hundreds of volunteers to work tirelessly for the
candidates of his choosing.
The Latino Mission district’s businesses had never recovered from the digging up of the central
shopping strip for the Bay Area Rapid Transit. Younger Chinese-Americans wanted better condition
for the tens of thousands crowded into Chinatown, one of the nation’s most appalling ghettos. The
city’s more conservative voters in the sprawling west side residential neighborhoods also wanted
change they already had had to suffer though the tide of hippies in the late 1960s; now they were
seeing the Castro neighborhood being swiftly taken over by gays. Property taxes spiraled, though
the homeowners saw few additional services for the added money. The revenues, they complained,
were going to support minorities in the east side of the city. The police strike had left them madder;
the pushy city unions seemed to be getting out of hand.
Supervisor Dianne Feinstein hoped the studied moderation she’d followed in her six years
in city politics would give her the broadest base of any candidate. Most pundits gave her a strong

faces when groups of beefy firemen and
teamsters trooped into the camera shop to fold
fliers and stamp envelopes.
electionsprovedawatershedyearforSanFrancisco
city politics. The social conflicts that had been
buildingduringtheAliotoadministrationerupted
into the mayoral race. San Francisco faced a
Blacks yearned for change. Their Filmore
neighborhood had once been one of the most
thriving black cultural centers west of New
Orleans. Leveled by urban renewal, its people
sank into despair. By 1975, the most influential
man in the area was a charismatic minister who
preached is own mixture of populist Christian
theology and Marxist politics out of a converted
synagogue he called the Peoples Temple.
The blacks who flocked there had lost their
neighborhood; they were not needed in
the sparkling glass and steel skyscrapers in
downtown; their hopes lay in the sermons of
the Reverend Jim Jones. He, in turn, could order
hundreds of volunteers to work tirelessly for the
candidates of his choosing.
The Latino Mission district’s businesses had
neverrecoveredfromthediggingupofthecentral
shopping strip for the Bay Area Rapid Transit.
Younger Chinese-Americans wanted better
condition for the tens of thousands crowded into
Chinatown, one of the nation’s most appalling
ghettos.The city’s more conservative voters in the
sprawling west side residential neighborhoods
alsowantedchangetheyalreadyhadhadtosuffer
though the tide of hippies in the late 1960s;
now they were seeing the Castro neighborhood
being swiftly taken over by gays. Property
taxes spiraled, though the homeowners saw few
additional services for the added money. The
revenues, they complained, were going to
support minorities in the east side of the city.The
police strike had left them madder; the pushy
city unions seemed to be getting out of hand.
Supervisor Dianne Feinstein hoped the stud-
ied moderation she’d followed in her six years
in city politics would give her the broadest
base of any candidate. Most pundits gave her a
strong chance of grabbing a first place showing

in the election. Liberal neighborhood activists
had long ago soured on Feinstein, accusing her
of indecisiveness at best or at worst of being a
puppet of the downtown business interests that
so generously filled her campaign chests She
retained some of her gay support from wealthy
upper-crust gays and managed to simultaneously
assuage fears of middle-class voters by nothing
her strong support for tough law enforcement.
Another major asset came from the Hearst
Corporation, owner of the afternoon Examiner,
which regarded Feinstein with a reverence
reserved for virgin mothers. Any story that
might have possible tangential relationship
to city government usually carried a Feinstein
quote.
George Moscone emerged as a clear liberal
choice. Moscocone was part of a new breed
of ethnic politicians who had been emerging
in San Francisco since the late 1960s, more
concerned with abortion and marijuana reform
than with getting a crdinal’s cap. They eschewed
the Catholic conservatism of old-line ethnic
politicos like Joe Alioto and were among the first
figures to reach effectively to black, Chinese,
Latino,andgayvoters.Onceconsideredsomething
of a radical, Moscone had worked his way
from the Board of Supervisors to the California
senate where he became senate majority
leader, post to run for San Francisco Mayor.
Moscone entered the campaign as the strident
proponent of neighborhood power, decrying the
“Manhattanization”developershadwroughtwith
their skyscrapers and corporate headquarters.
He turned his back on well0heeled campaign
contributors by refusing to accept any campaign
gift over $100.
Michael Wong looked around the camera
shop, stunned. In all the papers, he had read
so much about the scores of volunteers Harvey
Milk had working in his low-budget campaign.
Harvey’s campaign now had a near-legendary
quality, derived from Milk’s list of unexpected
endorsements. Commuters on various mornings
would frequently encounter his block-long
stretches of human billboards, lines of smiling
faces holding up “Harvey Milk for Supervisor”
signs. The human billboards were good theater,
Harvey decided. Wong had gotten to know Milk
fromworkingonSenatorFredHarris’presidential
campaign. He surrenders his earlier misgivings
and come down to Castro Camera headquarters
to join the cadre of volunteers he’d heard so
much about. The camera shop, however, was
empty. Wong leaned over the counter to Scott
Smith. “I knew then,” Wong wrote in his diary,
“that Harvey was a great media manipulator.”
Milk did indeed keep the media happy with his
flamboyant campaigning, always ready to give
reporters an outrageous joke or a quotable jab.
Harvey seemed ubiquitous in the campaign,
especially considering he had less money than
any major supervisorial candidate in the race.

Fig-23: Harvey Milk at victory party, 1977

stamp envelopes.
endorsement. Harvey’s new friends were going
to cheer him up. The 1975 municipal elections
proved a watershed year for San Francisco city
politics.The social conflicts that had been build-
ing during the Alioto administration erupted
theology and Marxist politics out of a converted
synagogue he called the Peoples Temple.
neighborhood; they were not needed in the spar-
kling glass and steel skyscrapers in downtown;
their hopes lay in the sermons of the Reverend
Jim Jones. He, in turn, could order hundreds of
volunteers to work tirelessly for the candidates
of his choosing.
neverrecoveredfromthediggingupofthecentral
though the tide of hippies in the late 1960s; now
they were seeing the Castro neighborhood being
swiftly taken over by gays. Property taxes
spiraled, though the homeowners saw few

stamp envelopes.
elections proved a watershed year for San
Franciscocitypolitics.Thesocialconflictsthathad
been building during the Alioto administration
erupted into the mayoral race. San Francisco
faced a profound turning point.
theology and Marxist politics out of a convert-
ed synagogue he called the Peoples Temple.
neighborhood; they were not needed in the
glass and steel skyscrapers in downtown;
their hopes lay in the sermons of the Reverend
Jim Jones. He, in turn, could order hundreds of
volunteers to work tirelessly for the candidates
of his choosing.
never recovered from the digging up of the central
though the tide of hippies in the late 1960s;
now they were seeing the Castro neighborhood
being swiftly taken over by gays. Property
taxes spiraled, though the homeowners saw few
SupervisorDianneFeinsteinhopedthestudied
moderation she’d followed in her six years in
city politics would give her the broadest base of
any candidate. Most pundits gave her a strong
chance of grabbing a first place showing in the

election. Liberal neighborhood activists had
long ago soured on Feinstein, accusing her of
indecisivenessatbestoratworstofbeingapuppet
of the downtown business interests that so
generously filled her campaign chests She
retained some of her gay support from wealthy
upper-crust gays and managed to simultaneously
assuage fears of middle-class voters by nothing
her strong support for tough law enforcement.
Another major asset came from the Hearst
Corporation, owner of the afternoon Examiner,
which regarded Feinstein with a reverence
generallyreservedforvirginmothers.Anystorythat
might have any possible tangential relationship
to city government carried a Feinstein quote.
choice. Moscocone was part of a new breed of
ethnic politicians who had been emerging in San
Francisco since the late 1960s, more concerned
withabortionandmarijuanareformthanwithget-
ting a cardinal’s cap.They eschewed the Catholic
conservatism of old-line ethnic politicos like Joe
Alioto and were among the first figures to reach
effectively to black, Chinese, Latino, and gay
voters. Once considered something of a radical,
Moscone had worked his way from the Board
of Supervisors to the California senate where he
became senate majority leader, post to run for
San Francisco Mayor. Moscone entered the cam-
paign as the strident proponent of neighborhood
power, decrying the “Manhattanization”
developers had wrought with their skyscrapers and
corporate headquarters. He turned his back
on well0heeled campaign contributors by
refusing to accept any campaign gift over $100.
would frequently encounter his block-long
stretches of human billboards, lines of smiling
faces holding up “Harvey Milk for Supervisor”
signs. The human billboards were good theater,
Harvey decided. Wong had gotten to know Milk
fromworkingonSenatorFredHarris’presidential
campaign. He surrenders his earlier misgivings
and come down to Castro Camera headquarters
to join the cadre of volunteers he’d heard so
much about. The camera shop, however, was
empty. Wong leaned over the counter to Scott
Smith. “I knew then,” Wong wrote in his diary,
“that Harvey was a great media manipulator.”
Milk did indeed keep the media happy with
his flamboyant campaigning, always ready to
give reporters an outrageous joke or a quotable
jab. Harvey seemed ubiquitous in the campaign.
Necks like teamsters and hard hats was in itself
proof of Milk’s naivete, if not outright insanity.

choice. Moscocone was part of a new breed
of ethnic politicians who had been emerging
in San Francisco since the late 1960s, more
concerned with abortion and marijuana reform
than with getting a crdinal’s cap.They eschewed
the Catholic conservatism of old-line ethnic
politicos like Joe Alioto and were among the first
figures to reach effectively to black, Chinese,
Latino, and gay voters. Once considered some-
thing of a radical, Moscone had worked his way
from the Board of Supervisors to the California
senate where he became senate majority leader,
post to run for San Francisco Mayor. Moscone
entered the campaign as the strident proponent
of neighborhood power, decrying the
“Manhattanization”developershadwroughtwith
their skyscrapers and corporate headquarters.
He turned his back on well0heeled campaign
contributors by refusing to accept any campaign
gift over $100.
would frequently encounter his block-
long stretches of human billboards, lines of
smiling faces holding up “Harvey Milk for
Supervisor” signs. The human billboards were
good theater, Harvey decided. Wong had
gotten to know Milk from working on Senator
Fred Harris’ presidential campaign. He surren-
ders his earlier misgivings and come down to
Castro Camera headquarters to join the cadre
of volunteers he’d heard so much about. The
camera shop, however, was empty. Wong
leaned over the counter to Scott Smith. “I knew
then,” Wong wrote in his diary, “that Harvey
was a great media manipulator.”
Milk did indeed keep the media happy with
his flamboyant campaigning, always ready to
give reporters an outrageous joke or a quotable
jab. Harvey seemed ubiquitous in the campaign,
The campaign’s strength lay not in the mythical
legion of volunteers, but with a small cadre
of supporters who worked protracted hours. A
group of politicos from more disparate origins
would be hard to find, even in San Francisco.
Harvey quickly named Won “my little yellow
lotus blossom” Wong, not familiar with the
homosexual penchant for campy nicknames,
took to telling Milk that he was a credit to your
productivity. Wong recruited other volunteers
from the Fred Harris campaign. Deputy Attorney
GeneralArloSmith,thehighestcivilserviceofficer
in the San Francisco branch of the attorney
general’s office, often spent evenings stuffing
envelopes he sometimes ran into another Milk

volunteer who had an intimate knowledge of
the criminal justice system. Harvey recruited
more volunteers from the many disaffected
who were moving to Castro Street. A pensive
Harvard graduate, Jim Rivaldo, wandered into
Castro Camera one day and mentioned his
handing out fliers. A mild-mannered thirty-
nine-year old Frank Robinson. Scott Smith had
his hands full as Harvey’s campaign manager.
Somebody had to take care of the store, so
Harvey and Scott almost casually turned over
the shop to a youthful art student who had
drifted to San Francisco from upstate New York.
Danny Nicoletta had the right combination of
hippie idealism and naiveté to guarantee trust –
and the slight build Harvey found so attractive
in young men. That Harvey often turned over
major responsibilities so casually worried some
friends. His campaigns could train a new corps
of activists. A committed novice from the streets
was worth a dozen old-timers, he said.
Fig-24: Harvey Milk in front of Castro Camera, 1977

Fig-25: Harvey Milk and Jimmy Carter, 1976

Harvey’s 10 Rules on Winning an Election
1. Interviews
with all major
papers 4. Visit non-gay
bars during the
daytime and any singles
bar at night
2. Knock on
all doors
3. Ride
buses
8. As few
meetings as pos-
sible. Just meet the
people
5. Coffee shops
and restaurants. Stop
off early in morning and
late at night
10. Don’t stop.
6. Shake
hands
7. Shake
hands
9. Door to door
of registered Demo’s is
very best thing you can do
outside of media cover-
age

“All over the country,
they are reading about
me, and the story
doesn’t center on me
being gay. It’s just about
a gay person who is
doing his job.”

No on Prop 6 67
no on prop 6
“What do you think of my new theater?”
Supervisor Harvey Milk enjoyed posing that
question to his friends as he would guide them
up the grand marble staircase of San Francisco
City Hall, and he pointed out the dramatic
proportions the building seemed to lend to
whatever history passé beneath its dome. “My
stage,” he would say, looking down at the
expansive lobby from the balcony. From his first
day in office, Harvey left little doubt that his term
would be marked more by his unique brand of
political theater than by the substantive tasks of
the board. He managed to turn his ceremonial
swearing-in into a major media event when he
and Jack Lira led a procession of 150 supporters
from Castro Camera down the fifteen blocks to
the wide front steps of City Hall. “This is a walk
of reconciliation with a nation of people,” he
hectored reporters. “This is a walk that will give
to many people hope.” Mayor Moscone and
a gaggle of other politicians greeted the cadre
of outsiders who were about to take their seat
of power at last. Milk insisted on an outdoor
inauguration, saying all his supporters could not
fit indoors. Besides, the pictures of Milk in front of
the proud rotunda made much better television.
As Harvey began to repeat the words of his oath,
a gentle rain began falling. “Anita Bryant said
gay people brought the drought to California,”
he joked, looking up at the sky. “Looks to me
like it’s finally started raining.”
Milkusedhisfirstboardmeetingthatafternoon
to strike an independent path. His first legislative
proposal called for the enactment of a
comprehensivebanonallformsofdiscrimination
against gays in the city. During the board’s first
order of business—the election of its president
– Milk tenaciously held out against the cer-
Briggs Initiative

tain election of Supervisor Dianne Feinstein,
maintaing the board should have its first minority
president, the new Chinese-American supervisor
Gordon Lau. After Feinstein won her 6-5 vote
the first of many 605 wins in the coming year.
Milk refused to go along with Lau’s courtesy
motion to make Feinstein’s election unanimous.
The lack of tact horrified the newspapers. The
Examiner ran an editorial saying Milk was off
to a disappointing start. But the anti-Feinstein
swipe delighted both liberals, who viewed
Feinstein as an ally of downtown business in-
terests, and gays, who had grown uneasy with
Feinstein’s prudery. He privately noted that the
Examiner editorial had served its most important
purpose, spelling his name right. An no mat-
ter what the editorial page said, the afternoon
paper’s front page was dominated by one picture
Harvey with his arm around Jack, leading the
march up Castro Street.
“You can act right now to help protect your
family from vicious killers and defend your
children from homosexual teachers.” With a
picture of a bludgeoned teenage youth lying
in a pool of his own blood, the brochure read
like a grisly clearance sale, advertised with a
political motif. Though it was Proposition 6 that
gained the nickname the Briggs Initiative, the
ambitious Fullerton senator had sponsored two
ballot initiatives for the election – Prop 6 and
proposition 7, enacting a tougher death penalty
statute. Briggs earnestly insisted that the two
issues were inexorably tied together. The
fundraising letter for both Propositions 6 and 7
drew the parallels =, over the picture of a vic-
tim of the odious trash bag murderer. “The ruth-
“If you let one homosexual teacher
stay, soon there’ll be two, then four,
then eight, then twenty five – and
before long, the entire school will be
taught by homosexuals”

No on Prop 6 69
less killer who shot this poor young man in the
face can be SET FREE TO KILL AGAIN because
California does not have an effective death
penalty law.” A feel paragraphs later, Briggs
explained that homosexual teachers represented
an equally horrendous threat, what with the
proliferation of gay teacher-recruiters in the
classrooms. The brochure lacked subtlety, but
the skillful use of direct mail techniques initially
brought hundreds of thousands of dollars into
the coffers of Brigg’s campaign.
Moreover, the gruesome brochure for the
two initiatives was not particulary wild rhetoric
compared to other fliers Briggs circulated for
Prop 6. The major leaflet of his campaign fea-
tured fifteen different newspaper clippings with
headlines like: “Teacher Accused of Sex Acts
with Boy Students,” “Senate Shown Movie
of Child Porn,” “Police Find Sexually Abused
Children,” “ Former Scoutmaster Convicted of
Homosexual Acts with Boys,” “Why a 13-year-
old Is Selling His Body,” “Ex-Teachers Indicted
for Lewd Acts with Boys,” “R.I. Sex Club Lured
Juveniles with Gifts.” One full-color newspaper
advertising supplement featured pictures from
the San Francisco Gay Freedom Day Parade
on its cover with the words ‘Moral Decay”
emblazonedacrossthem.“PoliticiansDoNothing
– Decent Citizens Must Act. You Can Help!
Start by Signing Up to Save Our Children from
Homosexual Teachers.” Pictures of Brigg and
Anita Bryant adorned inside pages.”
In September, Briggs further startled gay
activists when he said he was about to publish a
book entitled Everything You’ve Always Wanted
toKnowAboutHomosexualityButWereAfraidto
Ask. The planned 150-page opus would include
picturesofvictimsofthetrashbagmurdersandthe
Houston sex-torture ring, he said. San Francisco
would dominate the booklet with lengthy
discussions of the seedier sides of gay life,

70 Milk vs. The Machine Fig-26: San Francisco City Hall Protest, 1978

No on Prop 6 71
including fist-loving sadomasochists cults and sexual activity in parks, benches, bathhouses, back
rooms, and private male clubs. Briggs’ speeches were similarly peppered. “If you let one homosexual
teacher stay, soon there’ll be two, then four, then eight, then twenty five – and before long, the entire
school will be taught by homosexuals,” the senator said in a speech in Healdsburg, a tiny Sonoma
County hamlet that gained national attention during the Prop 6 Campaign when a local second
grade teacher publicly acknowledged his homosexuality. In the course of that forty-five minute
speech Briggs managed to equate homosexuals with adulterers, burglars, communists, murders,
rapists, Richard Nixon, child pornographers, and effeminate courtiers who undermine the Greek
and Roman civilizations.
The rhetoric was less startling than the fact that Briggs’s law just might have passed if it were not
for the brief definition of one three-word phrase in its language: Public Homosexual Conduct. The
phrase may sound like a description of a round of fellatio on Main Street, but the initiative sweepingly
defined “public homosexual conduct” as “advocating, imposing, encouraging or promoting of
private or public homosexual activity directed at, or likely to come to the attention of, school
children and/or other [school] employees.” Walking in a gay pride parade “encourages” homosexual
activity,soanyteacher,gayorstraight,couldhavebeenfiredforwalkinginagaymarch.Havingadrink
in a gay bar, assigning books written by a gay author, attending a meeting where gay rights was dis-
cussed, all constituted activity that might advocate or promote homosexuality, and all were therefore
punishable by termination, be the teacher gay or straight. The reason that Briggs picked Healdsburg
as a showcase city was because the second grade teacher had said he was gay in statement
opposing the Briggs initiative. Opposing the Briggs Initiative might be grounds for termination.

Milk used his first board meeting that afternoon to strike an independent path. His first legislative
proposal called for the enactment of a comprehensive ban on all forms of discrimination against
gays in the city. During the board’s first order of business—the election of its president – Milk
tenaciously held out against the certain election of Supervisor Dianne Feinstein, maintaing the
board should have its first minority president, the new Chinese-American supervisor Gordon Lau.
After Feinstein won her 6-5 vote – the first of many 605 wins in the coming year—Milk refused to go
along with Lau’s courtesy motion to make Feinstein’s election unanimous. The lack of tact horrified
the newspapers. The Examiner ran an editorial saying Milk was off to a disappointing start. But the
anti-Feinstein swipe delighted both liberals, who viewed Feinstein as an ally of downtown business
interests, and gays, who had grown uneasy with Feinstein’s prudery. He privately noted that the
Examiner editorial had served its most important purpose, spelling his name right. An no matter
what the editorial page said, the afternoon paper’s front page was dominated by one picture –
Harvey with his arm around Jack, leading the march up Castro Street.
The formal inauguration in the elaborately carved oak-paneled board chambers was marred
only when Harvey turned to introduce Jack Lira. Dan White had used his introduction time to pay
tribute to his grandmother, an Irish immigrant; Harvey relisted the juxtaposition of introducing
his male lover, but Lira had slipped out of the room even before the meeting started, afraid of the
cameras and bright lights being trained on him. “It’s well known that I’m a gay person. I have a
part of the machine
Harvey Milk: Supervisor

Part of the Machine 73
Fig-27: Harvey Milk, 1974

loved one but he was too nervous to stay here
and he left,” said Harvey. Milk had waited so
many years for the day of his inauguration when
he could stand as a homosexual to introduce
the man he loved and the moment had fled him.
Harvey instead used most of his introductory
remarks to speak on his favorite theme. “A true
function of politics is not just to pass laws, but
to give hope,” he said. “There have been too
many disappointments lately. The real abyss
that lies not too far ahead is that day when he
disappointed people lost their hope forever.
When that happens, everything we cherish will
be lost.”
Even the crustiest reporters, however, did
not fail to note the symbolism Milk underscored
in this, the first district-elected board in the city’s
modern history. Taking oaths were the city’s
first elected Chinese supervisor, the first black
woman, the only Latino supervisor, the first gay
city official in the nation, and, from another
alternative life-styles category, even the first
unwed mother supervisor, Harvey’s friend and
ally, Carol Ruth Silver. The inauguration also
signaled what looked like the beginning of a new
stability in city government after the turbulence
caused first by Moscone’s election, then the
passage of district elections, later the whirlwind
efforts to not only repeal district elections but
recall the city’s top officials, and finally the ouster
of the citywide board in November. Feinstein
called it “a new day in San Francisco politics”;
the transition in power from downtown to the
neighborhoods looked like juggernaut now, a
palace coup that could not be undone.
The best media event inauguration day came
not from Milk, but from his old nemesis David
Goodstein, who sponsored a series of inaugural
night parties at the city’s three most popular gay
discos. Publicly, Goodstin culled jargon from
his est courses to insist he wanted to provide
a supportive context for Milk and publicly,
Harvey said, “If Begin and Saat can get together
to talk, so can we.” Privately, Goodstein quoted
Machiavelli’s Pricne, not Werner Erhard, as the
reason for the parties. The round of inaugural
partying did not end until the next night when
Milk threw a formal dinner to help pay off his
campaign debt. The new supervisor used the
occasion to wax eloquent again about his
dreams for new cities and for hope:
The American Dream starts with neighbor-
hoods. If we wish to rebuild our cities, we must
first rebuild our neighborhoods. To sit on the
front steps – whether it’s a veranda in a small
town or a concrete stoop in a big city – is
infinitely more important than to huddle on the
living room longer and watch a make-believe
world in not quite living color.
The new supervisor from District 5 was out
to be more than the gay legislator and he used
his first months on the board to build his populist
image, inveighing against the interests he
considered the bane of a healthy San Francisco
downtown corporations and real estate
developers. He pushed for a commuter tax,

so the 300,00-plus corporate employees who
came downtown each day from suburbia would
ay their share for the city services they used. The
news that a parking garage for a new performing
arts center near City Hall would replace housing
units sent Harvey on a rampage. “It’s a scandal
of human nature to rip down sixty-seven housing
units in this day so that the wealthy can have a
place to park their cars,” he lectured. ‘A place
for an auto to ret is not as important as the need
for a place for people to rest. There is a shifting
of tides taking place toward the needs of people
versus the needs of the auto.” Real estate
developers tried to persuade Milk to support a
massive downtown development project with
the argument that once built, it would provide
thousands of jobs for minorities.“Jobs
as what?” Harvey sneered. “Janitors,
waitresses, and busboys. Big fucking deal. What
kinds of opportunities are those?”
The centerpiece of Milk’s legislative agenda
remained his ordinance to discourage the real
Fig-28: Harvey Milk’s Inauguration, 1978

76 Milk vs. The Machine Fig-29: Harvey Milk’s Inauguration walk, 1978

estate speculation that was running rampant throughout San Francisco, especially in the Castro.
Harvey worried that the spiraling housing prices would force the poor and minorities out of the city.
Milk went right to the belly of the beast and delivered the announcement of his anti-speculation
tax to the San Francisco Board of Realtors. The group wasted no time in singling Milk out as the
most formidable political foe. Still, conceded one Milk critic, “With Harvey, you never had to worry
about a knife in the back. He gave you a front assault.”
As his early months in office wore on, Harvey gained greater confidence and poise. He reigned
his once galloping pace of speech to a reasonable center. The formerly frenzied waving of arms gave
way to a calmer, more confident gesture of one arm, index finger extended, which photographed
better. He did his board homework meticulously. When a friend went to rouse him for a 2 A.M.
emergency one morning, he found Harvey wide awake in his pajamas, reading the complicated
city charter. Veteran Supervisor John Molinari though Milk was acting driven at times in his effort
to keep up on all the issues before the board, as if he had to prove that he was more than just a gay
supervisor. Harvey’s good humor started outshining his natural abrasiveness, so that even while hew
as often in the minority of board votes, a few colleagues disliked the politician with a penchant for
puns and one-liners. Michael Wong found a thoroughly ecstatic Milk when he visited City Hall in
March. Harvey recounted his excitement at a recent fundraising dinner.
“The formerly frenzied waving of arms
gave way to a calmer, more confident
gesture of one arm, index finger
extended, which photographed better.”

to give him the backing of all the council mem-
bers. A mammoth hook and ladder truck ap-
peared in front of Castro Camera after Milk
lost the council endorsement. Harvey’s new
friends were going to cheer him up. The
1975 municipal elections proved a watershed
year for San Francisco city politics. The
social conflicts that had been building
during the Alioto administration erupted
thriving black cultural centers west of New Orleans.
Leveled by urban renewal, its people sank into
despair. By 1975, the most influential man in the area
was a charismatic minister who preached is own mixture
of populist Christian theology and Marxist politics out of a
converted synagogue he called the Peoples Temple. The blacks
Fig-30: Harvey Milk’s at San Francisco Gay Freedom Day Parade, 1974

who flocked there had lost their neighborhood; they were
not needed in the sparkling glass and steel skyscrapers in
downtown; their hopes lay in the sermons of the Reverend
Jim Jones. He, in turn, could order hundreds of volunteers
to work tirelessly for the candidates of his choosing.
TheLatinoMissiondistrict’sbusinesseshadneverrecovered
from the digging up of the central shopping strip for the
Bay Area Rapid Transit. Younger Chinese-Americans wanted
better condition for the tens of thousands crowded into
Chinatown, one of the nation’s most appalling ghettos.The city’s
more conservative voters in the sprawling west side residential
neighborhoods also wanted change they already had had to suffer
though the tide of hippies in the late 1960s; now they were seeing
the Castro neighborhood being swiftly taken over by gays. Property
taxes spiraled, though the homeowners saw few additional services for
the added money. The revenues, they complained, were going to support
minorities in the east side of the city. The police strike had left them madder;
the pushy city unions seemed to be getting out of hand.
Supervisor Dianne Feinstein hoped the studied moderation she’d followed in her
six years in city politics would give her the broadest base of any candidate. Most pundits
gave her a strong chance of grabbing a first place showing in the election.
Fig-31: Harvey Milk’s at Inauguration dinner, 1978

Harvey relished the symbolism of gaining the endorsements
from the city’s three most macho unions – teamsters, firemen,
and hard hats. When the city’s Union Labor Party held its en-
dorsement night, Harvey walked away with the highest tally
of any supervisorial candidate. Publicly, Milk waxed on about
how he was bringing diverse peoples together; privately,
he enjoyed seeing the shock on his gay volunteers’ faces
when groups of beefy firemen and teamsters trooped into the
camera shop to fold fliers and stamp envelopes.
Harvey’s labor supporters pleaded with the old-line labor
leaders who ran the Labor Council to give him the backing of
all the council members. A mammoth hook and ladder truck
appeared in front of Castro Camera after Milk lost the council
endorsement. Harvey’s new friends were going to cheer him
up.The 1975 municipal elections proved a watershed year for
San Francisco city politics. The social conflicts that had been
building during the Alioto administration erupted into the
mayoral race. San Francisco faced a profound turning point.
Fig-32: Harvey Milk’s at Castro Camera, 1977

Blacks yearned for change. Their Filmore neighborhood
had once been one of the most thriving black cultural centers
west of New Orleans. Leveled by urban renewal, its people
sank into despair. By 1975, the most influential man in the
area was a charismatic minister who preached is own mixture
of populist Christian theology and Marxist politics out of
a converted synagogue he called the Peoples Temple. The
blacks who flocked there had lost their neighborhood; they
were not needed in the sparkling glass and steel skyscrapers
in downtown; their hopes lay in the sermons of the Reverend
Jim Jones. He, in turn, could order hundreds of volunteers
to work tirelessly for the candidates of his choosing. The
Latino Mission district’s businesses had never recovered from
the digging up of the central shopping strip for the Bay Area
Rapid Transit. Younger Chinese-Americans wanted better
condition for the tens of thousands crowded into Chinatown,
one of the nation’s most appalling ghettos. The city’s more
conservative voters in the sprawling west side residential
Fig-33: Harvey Milk’s at Castro Camera, 1977

neighborhoods also wanted change they already had had to suffer though the tide of hippies in the
late 1960s; now they were seeing the Castro neighborhood being swiftly taken over by gays. Property
taxes spiraled, though the homeowners saw few additional services for the added money. The
revenues, they complained, were going to support minorities in the east side of the city. The police
strike had left them madder; the pushy city unions seemed to be getting out of hand.
Milk’s swearing-in made national headlines, as he became the first openly gay non-incumbent
man in the United States to win an election for public office. He likened himself to pioneering
African American baseball player Jackie Robinson and walked to City Hall arm in arm with Jack Lira,
stating “You can stand around and throw bricks at Silly Hall or you can take it over. Well, here we
are.” The Castro District was not the only neighborhood to promote someone new to city politics.
Sworn in with Milk were also a single mother (Carol Ruth Silver), a Chinese American (Gordon
Lau), and an African American woman (Ella Hill Hutch)—all firsts for the city. Daniel White, a
former police officer and firefighter, was also a first-time supervisor, and he spoke of how proud he
was that his grandmother was able to see him sworn in.
Milk’s energy, affinity for pranking, and unpredictability at times exasperated Board of Supervisors
President Dianne Feinstein. In his first meeting with Mayor Moscone, Milk called himself the “number
one queen” and dictated to Moscone that he would have to go through Milk instead of the Alice B.
Toklas Memorial Democratic Club if he wanted the city’s gay votes—a quarter of San Francisco’s
voting population. However, Milk also became Moscone’s closest ally on the Board of Supervisors.
The biggest targets of Milk’s ire were large corporations and real estate developers. He fumed when
a parking garage was slated to take the place of homes near the downtown area, and tried to pass a
commuter tax so office workers who lived outside the city and drove into work would have to pay
for city services they used. Milk was often willing to vote against Feinstein and other more tenured
members of the board. In one controversy early in his term, Milk agreed with fellow Supervisor
Dan White, whose district was located two miles south of the Castro, that a mental health facility
for troubled adolescents should not be placed there. After Milk learned more about the facility, he
decided to switch his vote, ensuring White’s loss on the issue—a particularly poignant cause that
White championed while campaigning. White did not forget it. He opposed every initiative and
issue Milk supported.

During the sixties and seventies, a steadily increasing number of San Francisco’s industries fled the
city, opting to build new plants in the suburbs, rather than overhaul their aging and antiquated inner-
city facilities. This urban flight eroded the city’s poorer neighborhoods, whose blue collar residents-
-mostly blacks and hispanics who had relied on the plants for their livelihood--could not afford to
follow their jobs to the suburbs. Instead of offering business incentives to remain in San Francisco,
the city’s civil administration--whose campaign had been heavily backed by developers, construc-
tion unions, and real estate concerns--launched an aggressive “urban renewal” campaign, which
led to the razing of large segments of San Francisco’s poorer ethnic neighborhoods to make room
for office complexes and a mass transit system designed to lure tourists and corporate headquarters
to the city. The fruits of the machine’s short-sighted “urban renewal” policy, was a shimmering
skyline which was invaded daily by hordes of suburban-dwelling white-collar workers. At night, the
skyline lay cold and vacant in the moonlight--its serene sterility obliterating the memory of the once
vibrant neighborhood upon which it stood. The sterility of the skyline, however, was deceptive.
“The scar that’s left isn’t just the empty office building or the now-vacant lot,” Milk warned, “it’s
the worker who can no longer provide for his family, the teenager who suddenly awakens from
the American Dream to find that all the jobs have gone south for the duration.” The city had been
mutilated by the machine; its wounds left to fester, as the inner city neighborhoods crumbled, and
the crime rate soared. “You see the empty buildings [where businesses used to be], but you don’t
see the hopelessness, the loss of pride, the anger,” warned Milk.
Milk passionately believed that the “true function of politics is not just to pass laws, but to give
hope.”Iftheproblemsofthecitiesarenotaddressed,hewarned,America’scitieswillplungeheadlong
into “the real abyss that lies not too far ahead, when a disappointed people lose their hope forever.
When that happens, everything we cherish will be lost.” The machine had betrayed the inner-city,
selling it out to “carpet-baggers who have fled to the suburbs,” leaving behind omnipresent “fire

SUPERVISOR MILK 85
Fig-35: Harvey Milk, Mayor Moscone, and Supervisor Carol Ruth, 1978

Needs of Individuals
the three goals
follow their jobs to the suburbs. Instead of offering business incentives to remain in San Francisco,
the city’s civil administration--whose campaign had been heavily backed by developers, construc-
tion unions, and real estate concerns--launched an aggressive “urban renewal” campaign, which
led to the razing of large segments of San Francisco’s poorer ethnic neighborhoods to make room
for office complexes and a mass transit system designed to lure tourists and corporate headquarters
the crime rate soared. “You see the empty buildings [where businesses used to be], but you don’t
see the hopelessness, the loss of pride, the anger,” warned Milk.

SUPERVISOR MILK 87
Goal One:
Government to
respond to the needs
of individuals

During the sixties and seventies, a steadily increasing number of San Francisco’s industries fled
the city, opting to build new plants in the suburbs, rather than overhaul their aging and antiquated
inner-city facilities. This urban flight eroded the city’s poorer neighborhoods, whose blue collar
residents--mostly blacks and hispanics who had relied on the plants for their livelihood--could not
afford to follow their jobs to the suburbs. Instead of offering business incentives to remain in San
Francisco, the city’s civil administration--whose campaign had been heavily backed by developers,
construction unions, and real estate concerns--launched an aggressive “urban renewal”
campaign, which led to the razing of large segments of San Francisco’s poorer ethnic neighborhoods
to make room for office complexes and a mass transit system designed to lure tourists and corporate
headquarters to the city. The fruits of the machine’s short-sighted “urban renewal” policy, was a
shimmering skyline which was invaded daily by hordes of suburban-dwelling white-collar workers.
At night, the skyline lay cold and vacant in the moonlight--its serene sterility obliterating the
memory of the once vibrant neighborhood upon which it stood. The sterility of the skyline,
however, was deceptive. “The scar that’s left isn’t just the empty office building or the now-vacant
lot,” Milk warned, “it’s the worker who can no longer provide for his family, the teenager who
suddenly awakens from the American Dream to find that all the jobs have gone south for the
duration.” The city had been mutilated by the machine; its wounds left to fester, as the inner city
neighborhoods crumbled, and the crime rate soared.
Gay Rights

The Three Goals 89
Goal Two:
Address and stress
the importance
of gay rights

follow their jobs to the suburbs. Instead of offering business incentives to remain in San Francisco, the
city’s civil administration--whose campaign had been heavily backed by developers, construction
unions, and real estate concerns--launched an aggressive “urban renewal” campaign, which led
to the razing of large segments of San Francisco’s poorer ethnic neighborhoods to make room for
office complexes and a mass transit system designed to lure tourists and corporate headquarters
the crime rate soared. “You see the empty buildings [where businesses used to be], but you don’t.
San Francisco Neighborhoods
“As a supervisor, Harvey Milk got to
work on the issues that people of San
Francisco cared about: schools, parks,
police protection and housing.”

Harvey Milk: Milk vs. The Machine

Harvey Milk: Milk vs. The Machine

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