Visiting with Harvey & George – 30 Years Later

Dear Friend and Reader,

THE OTHER NIGHT, I dreamt I was in front of a crowd listening to Joan Baez singing “Amazing Grace” on the steps of San Francisco’s City Hall. She still had her dark hair, and was bathed in a golden light. Behind me, thousands of people had gathered onto Civic Center Plaza, the park facing the Mayor’s Office side of City Hall. We were bathed in a sea of candlelight from the thousands taking part holding our own individual votives in the gathering on the plaza. The golden glow around Joan was from our fire.

Rioters outside San Francisco City Hall the evening of May 21, 1979, reacting to the voluntary manslaughter verdict for Dan White, that ensured White would serve only five years for the double murders of Harvey Milk and George Moscone. Photo by Daniel Nicoletta.

When I woke, it was as though I was being visited by my 23-year old self, who was there that very night, November 27, 1978, marching with thousands of other San Franciscans. That march started with a gathering on Castro Street, moving en masse and building steam block, by block, by block, collecting itself finally in front of City Hall.

That morning and all day, repeatedly over the radio and television, was the sound of Board of Supervisors President Dianne Feinstein’s voice, barely holding on and holding back emotion, haltingly reading her statement: “Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk have been shot…(an audible gasp)…and killed this morning at 10:30 am. The suspect is former Supervisor Dan White”.

San Francisco had already received an obscenely unfair share of national attention. The lurid visuals and details of the Jonestown Massacre had become a front cover on Time Magazine and was in the news cycle for over a week. The country had a new national fixation on religious cults. Jim Jones had become a household name for the dark side. And now a mayor and a city supervisor were shot and killed by another supervisor in what would be called an act of temporary insanity, also known as “the Twinkie defense.”

The killings came as an unwelcome eclipse to the horror in Guyana. During the day, San Franciscans walked in a state of stunned grief, needing release. At sunset, we walked with our candles, my boyfriend and I, unsure of who or what we’d find on that march. 30 years later, as I walk that path again, alone, I see the picture unfold.

It’s unsettling witnessing the universe created by the loss of those two men on that November day. 30 years gone by and the city is much changed from when George Moscone, a Sagittarian born November 24, 1929 was mayor and Harvey Milk, a Gemini born across the continent six months later on May 22, 1930, was a supervisor. I wonder if George, a progressive, slow-growth, pro-working class, pro-union hero, would have approved the city’s skyline we see now. Its now crowded with tall buildings that cut off the sunlight contrary to the building height limits fought for in his day. There is a large convention center named after him on Redevelopment land in the industrial area, a project he opposed when it was first discussed. Tourism and banking industries took over and blue-collar jobs went south.

George was a hardball Northern California liberal. An adept member of the political machine Rep. John and Philip Burton built — hardcore working class Democratic liberals of the old cut, a club to which Nancy Pelosi and Dianne Feinstein were just junior members.

Harvey was a serious and motivated community activist. Openly gay, he was a populist, a tenant activist, supporter of public power and advocate for police reform. He was a coalition builder bringing together one of the most conservative labor unions — the Teamsters — and the gay community to boycott Coors beer in support of the union, forging a powerful alliance ever since. Harvey’s appeal crossed over gender identification lines. The city’s progressives loved him. In the truest sense of the word, Harvey was a shit-kicking sweetheart of a man, and he made being openly gay not only cool, but politically effective. The Sagittarius-Gemini astrological pole between the two of them was almost exact. No wonder they liked each other so much.

The year before his death, Harvey, the gay community and progressives throughout San Francisco fought the Briggs Initiative, a measure that would have prevented gay people from teaching in public schools. We won. 30 years later, Californians voted to support the ban on gay marriage, and we’re scratching our heads. I wonder if Harvey would have taken that defeat hard or would he be a lot more sanguine. As a coalition builder between disparate groups and communities, I would imagine Harvey would have found a way to get gay marriage through politically even after its defeat. Harvey was about building bridges. This is what made him lovable. This is what made his politics smart. To his enemies, this is what made him dangerous.

If George hadn’t been killed, we probably would not see Dianne Feinstein, or perhaps even Nancy Pelosi on the national political scene. Until 1978, Feinstein was relegated to the back seat of city politics, President of the Board of Supervisors, having lost to George in the mayoral race three years before. With Moscone gone, the leadership vacuum demanded experience, and Dianne’s fortitude during the assassination crisis earned her voter confidence. During her two terms as mayor, Feinstein’s business acumen, with help from the Democratic political machine that nurtured George Moscone helped catapult her to her Senate seat, which she has occupied since the early 1990s.

Had Dan White never fired those bullets, would we be seeing Democratic senators, particularly one from the ultraviolet blue region of the San Francisco Bay Area, vote to Authorize Use of Military Force in Iraq? Would Harvey have been able to be elected to Congress as its first openly gay member before Barney Frank? And would he have been a strong advocate for progressives in Congress? We will never know.

What we do know, as my 23-year old self re-joins me 30 years later, is that as time marches forward, we see the effects of this loss of these two men at their moment of destiny, and our moment in history. This loss had a profound effect, small and large scale, right here in my little town. Even moreso in the world, come to think of it. It makes you wonder, as with all cases of senseless violence, what does this all mean?

But if they were here right now, I’m sure Harvey and George would have none of this pondering. As their energy was released by their passing, so too were the ideals and dreams espoused by them to those of us left to take on the mantle. I’m sure Harvey would let the statewide Yes on 8 vote roll off his back and gather us all to fight another day, sense of humor in hand, ready to do battle. I’m sure George would have a thing or two to say about the Wall Street bailout to Nancy and Dianne.

I’m sure their ghosts are very much present, walking the halls of Congress. And I’m sure, somewhere, carried by the sound of Joan singing “Amazing Grace”, their words are still being heard.

Yours and truly,

Fe Bongolan from San Francisco.