Audio Interview, Walt Szymanski, May 6, 2013

EVELYN BAILEY: Today is May 6, and we're

sitting here with Pat Cloonan and Reverend Waltz Szymanski.

And we're going to interview Walt.

But he has a Jackie Nudd story that we need

to get recorded and documented.

WALT SZYMANSKI: Well, Jackie Nudd--

this was in the early 1980s.

I can't document the year but it was

at the time when only immediate family--

some very restrictive families would only

allow immediate family come.

So lovers and partners and people

like that were prevented even to do much with the funeral.

Well Jackie, coming from the AIDS Rochester Program,

as the director, arrived to visit a certain patient who

had been dying.

And she was confronted by the nurse.

As Jackie was putting on the gown and the mask,

the nurse said, we have specific instructions not

to allow anyone else except immediate family.

And Jackie looked at the nurse in her typical fashion

and said, "Well, I've got the gown on already.

I've got the mask on.

I'm putting the gloves on.

I'm walking in there and it's going

to take hell or high water or the police

to come to pull me out."

EVELYN BAILEY: That was Jackie.

WALT SZYMANSKI: That's a Jackie story.

EVELYN BAILEY: Go ahead.

WALT SZYMANSKI: Well Rochester, at that time--

since my ordination, I came to realize--

is the queen mother city of liberation.

Even people in New York City admitted to that.

And then, after twenty years of ministry in Rochester,

I went to Pittsburgh.

That's my hometown, where I was born and raised.

And to my disappointment, Pittsburgh--

the Episcopal Diocese in Pittsburgh--

was the center of the evangelical, anti-gay movement

in the Episcopal church, with its own seminary.

My hometown.

So I stayed canonically resident in Rochester

as a priest, which I still do.

And when I went back to Pittsburgh in '93

it was an uphill battle.

I didn't pay as big a price as my gay brothers and sisters.

Pittsburgh itself, the lay of the land,

was becoming more open minded.

But the churches were very conservative and very anti-gay.

And I had to deal with that.

In fact, when I came back to Pittsburgh,

the bishop at the time was a charismatic evangelical bishop

who disagreed with what was happening at General Convention

in the Episcopal Church.

The Episcopal Church, at that time,

was going forward opening its doors to gay brothers

and sisters throughout the country,

while Pittsburgh was going the other direction along

with the dioceses of Dallas, Fort Worth, and Quincy,

Massachusetts.

They were going in the opposite direction

with 12 other bishops who were anti-gay, which caused a rift.

And Pittsburgh was the center of that rift-- my hometown.

Coming from a very open-minded, very progressive diocese

and city, to a very homophobic, oppressive church

in Pittsburgh.

EVELYN BAILEY: Well I want to call you back to your Rochester

years, early--

I think it would be 1971, '72, when

you became affiliated with the Episcopal diocese.

And I think-- were you a deacon at St. Thomas

Moore on East Avenue?

WALT SZYMANSKI: Not St. Thomas Moore.

I was a deacon only through my last year of seminary at St.

Bernard's.

And then when I finished my last year of seminary

at St. Bernard's, when I realized

that I was going to leave the Roman Church,

that's when Bishop Hogan asked for my resignation as a deacon.

But gracefully-- he asked me very gracefully.

And then I went into--

from 1971 to about 1972, somewhere along 1972--

I went into about a year or so of affiliation

with the Episcopal Church--

St. Thomas Episcopal Church off of Winton Road in Brighton--

just to learn.

And then I had to take the general orders exams,

because in the Episcopal Church just graduating from seminary

is not an automatic pass to ordination.

So I took the general ordination exams and passed that.

And then we set a date for my ordination to the priesthood.

Bishops Spears, before that time, reinstated my diaconate.

There was no re-ordination.

And then on June 24--

it was a Sunday, in 1973--

I was an ordained priest at St. Thomas Church.

But by then, I was already engaged in gay and lesbian

ministry and was operating as a priest in 1974 out of St.

Thomas' Church until I went to St. Luke's-- which is now St.

Luke's--

St. Simon's around 1975.

That's when DI--

Dignity Integrity-- was established.

EVELYN BAILEY: OK.

Now just before you went to DI, in talking to Bruce Hanson,

he said that you approached him because he was at St. Luke's.

Or did he approach you?

Because in your ministry to LGBT people,

you were finding men and women of faith

in the Catholic tradition who were struggling

with that whole thing.

WALT SZYMANSKI: They were meeting

in another place as a matter of fact, I remember.

I forgot where it was, but I attended a couple times.

And they wanted to be in a church.

They wanted to be part of a Eucharistic celebration, which

I felt was their right.

So I remember Bruce and I were friends already.

And Bruce had known about my gay and lesbian ministry.

So just in mutual talking.

I think we both mutually--

whoever asked first, I don't think it was the point.

I just felt that if Integrity was already associating itself

with St. Luke's downtown, and the Roman Catholic Dignity

people were looking for a church, I said,

"Wouldn't it be a wonderful occasion for Dignity

and for Integrity to meet together at St. Luke's?"

And I spoke to Bruce about this and he thought

that would be a wonderful--

he said it made sense.

But he said, Depending on the Roman Catholic bishop,"

said, "because as far as the protocol is concerned here

with Bishop Spears, no problem."

And with me being like a pastor to the group--

or a chaplain-- he said that wouldn't be any problem.

But if the bishop would--

the Roman Catholic bishop--

with would approve of that, then certainly,

St. Luke's is the place.

And when that was approved by the Roman Catholic bishop--

I think it was Bishop Hogan at the time--

and Bishop Spears, both bishops agreed.

You can't do anything without the bishops agreeing.

So both bishops agreed.

Bruce Hanson felt OK about it.

And I felt well, then I should be downtown.

So I became Bruce's assistant priest.

He received me as his assistant priest at St. Luke's.

And that made me chaplain of Dignity Integrity.

And that's when I told St. Thomas Episcopal Church.

And they agreed.

I mean the clergy there and the people at St. Thomas

agreed that it made sense for me to be downtown.

EVELYN BAILEY: Now, my understanding

is that before Dignity and Integrity joined,

they were worshipping at a church behind Eastman

Kodak, downtown.

It was a Hispanic church.

WALT SZYMANSKI: I remember some place.

I can't-- my memory fails.

But they just wanted something else.

And they wanted to celebrate the Eucharist downtown.

And when Bruce Hanson and the two bishops felt

OK about the merging of the Episcopal and Roman Catholic

traditions to worship and to have mass--

because we call it mass too--

at five o'clock, we would alternate.

We would have an Episcopal service one Sunday,

with maybe a Roman Catholic preacher.

Usually it was the sister who would preach,

or a Roman Catholic priest.

And on a Roman Catholic Sunday, the Roman Catholic priest

would celebrate the mass with an Episcopal priest,

or myself would do the preaching.

That was working out well.

Our concern was not only with the Vatican,

that gay Roman Catholics and gay Episcopalians

were meeting together, but they were receiving communion

on the same Sunday.

Bruce Hanson went to Canterbury Lectures

one time in the Vatican and this Cardinal--

it's just an amazing story--

was going around.

Because all these Anglican clergy throughout

the world were in Rome for what they call Canterbury Lectures.

So a cardinal was a host of this gathering of Anglican clergy.

And Bruce remembers him walking around the room introducing

himself.

And where are you from--

Australia, Great Britain, and Bruce

said the cardinal came up to him and said, "And father where are

you from?"

And he was delighted he called him father, at least.

And he said, "Rochester, New York."

And the cardinal paused and he says, "Rochester?"

And Bruce said, "Yes.

It's St. Luke's Episcopal Church, in downtown Rochester."

And he remembers the cardinal going, "Oh yes, St. Luke's."

EVELYN BAILEY: He told me the same story.

(Laughter)

WALT SZYMANSKI: He never knew.

Was it because there was a joint gay community

or they were receiving communion?

EVELYN BAILEY: The radical element.

That's what it was, Walt.

WALT SZYMANSKI: Well, we realized shortly

after that we were the only Roman Catholic, Episcopal, gay

and lesbian group in the world attending

mass in the same church.

Isn't that amazing?

I mean, we just--

EVELYN BAILEY: It is.

WALT SZYMANSKI: Yeah.

EVELYN BAILEY: It is.

And I need to share with you that many people I've

interviewed who were involved early on in DI, early

on with the Gay Alliance, early on with AIDS--

no one ever thought that their participation, their actions,

their beginning of groups and organizations

would ever have the impact that it has.

I mean you don't do it because of what you think will happen.

You do it because there's nothing else you can do.

You must do this because this is what you believe

and this is where you're called.

WALT SZYMANSKI: Well, for the gay and lesbian community

at the time and myself, it made sense.

For me, it was no big deal.

OK, so yes, I'm a priest and I'm chaplain.

That seems to make sense to me.

You know, I don't know what it was--

where I felt this freedom.

I never was in the full employ of the church, ever.

I was always working another job.

Usually clinically or I was program director for the center

or I was doing private practice.

But I was always doing something else

and working only part-time with the church.

And I don't know maybe that gave me some freedom.

But whatever it was, I never really thought it was--

and even my brothers' and sisters' in the gay

and lesbian community in Rochester--

we never thought that we were making history or doing

anything very special until later when we looked back.

We said, oh wow, that was quite a step.

EVELYN BAILEY: Now, when you left Rochester,

Dignity Integrity was still intact.

WALT SZYMANSKI: Oh yeah.

EVELYN BAILEY: And they were still

having Episcopal mass and Roman Catholic mass

and worshipping together.

It wasn't until later in the 90s that the Roman Catholic church

came down hard on ministry to--

WALT SZYMANSKI: Bishop Clark, from my understanding--

because I was in Pittsburgh at the time

and I learned of this--

had no choice.

EVELYN BAILEY: No he did not.

WALT SZYMANSKI: The Vatican had the absolute--

this would never-- you'd have to be thrown out

of the House of Bishops for something

like that to happen in the Episcopal church.

But with the Vatican, at the whim of the Pope,

at the whim of the Vatican Curia or whatever authority

there is in the Vatican.

Like Bishop Hunthausen in Portland, Oregon many years

ago, Bishop Clark could have could

have been pulled out of the diocese

and replaced by another bishop, just like that.

He had no choice.

EVELYN BAILEY: No and I understand that.

And I and I firmly believe that he

chose to do that because he felt, also,

that whoever replaced him would be much more

conservative and much less open to the changes

and to the movement that was going on here in Rochester

in Catholic Dioceses than anyone else.

And so he saw this as a sad step.

But if he didn't take it, it would have been much worse

for the diocese.

WALT SZYMANSKI: And in Pittsburgh, looking back,

a few of us in Pittsburgh even agreed that he had no choice.

And had he been removed, it would

have been dire consequences because the Vatican would

certainly have replaced Bishop Clark with--

and I think Bishop Clark knew this already.

So it was painful, but it was the only thing

that he could do.

EVELYN BAILEY: Now, I also want to take you

back to those early years-- '73, '74.

Because there was a huge outpouring of ecumenism

in this area-- in Rochester.

Henry Attwell, who was in Avon, began the dialogue, I believe,

with quite a few churches to bring them together

to have ecumenical healing services,

to have ecumenical celebrations.

The Catholic Diocese, the Episcopal Diocese,

the Presbyterians were open to this.

What do you put the openness to ecumenism down to?

Do you think it was because Rochester has such an educated

populace?

Do you think because the men and women

of faith in the various dioceses were truly open

to movement and to change and to coming together in unity?

I mean no one was forcing anyone to do this.

WALT SZYMANSKI: I think, looking back

from my conversations with civic leaders

and also with the church leadership,

what's peculiar about Rochester--

sure it's a small city compared to a large metropolitan areas,

but it's a very technical city.

At the time I was in Rochester--

I arrived in 1968 and through the 1970s--

it was also, per capita, probably

one of the most educated metropolitan areas or cities

in the United States.

And when you get people who are relatively educated

and people coming here for the high tech industries--

for example, people from Los Angeles,

people from San Francisco, Chicago, New York

City coming as engineers, physicists,

and medical technicians, doctors, and professors--

you're getting a very educated mindset.

And I'm sure that many of the educated people coming

into Rochester probably weren't able to do as much as they

would have liked to do in social action

in the cities they were coming out of,

even though New York in Los Angeles were very large.

But in Rochester-- what was peculiar about Rochester,

is that you could organize.

You could have educated people getting on the telephone who

wanted to do things--

people who belonged to certain churches

that had ecumenical ideas.

And in Rochester, unlike New York and Los Angeles

and Chicago, you could get on the phone

and within the week have twelve people of like mind.

Twelve different variations of people

with different backgrounds who had

a purpose of doing something that they've always

wanted to do.

And Rochester was a place to do that.

It's interesting that Susan B. Anthony was able to organize.

Frederick Douglass was able to organize and publish and do

things unimaginable in any other city at the time.

Martin Luther King Jr.'s School came here.

Walter Rauschenbusch with the Social Gospel Ministry.

Because of the educated base of Rochester

and the ability to organize I think

gave Rochester a step ahead of many large cities,

which surprised a lot of leaders in other large cities,

including the Bishop of San Francisco.

Paul Moore, who was a progressive bishop of New York.

Mayors admitted that you could do more things in a smaller

town with like minded people who were educated.

And I think I think that combination really

was a blessing to Rochester.

Does that makes sense?

EVELYN BAILEY: Yes, it does.

Because there is no other city that I am aware of that

has put together the economic, social, and political activism

that has worked together to provide for quality of life

for the citizens of the community.

WALT SZYMANSKI: In the criminal justice system,

for example, look at the work the jail ministries,

prison ministries, the cooperation between the defense

counsel and prosecutors they got together

for the rights of prisoners in Rochester.

When the Attica uprising happened--

what came out of the Attica uprising

was a review of the rights of prisoners.

Giving more access to voting.

More access to more humane conditions in prison.

It was people in Rochester, coming out of Attica, New York.

If you remember back then?

EVELYN BAILEY: I do, yeah.

WALT SZYMANSKI: I want to get back to 1974

because that's a banner year.

As you know, I had the authorization of the Bishop

in '73, shortly after my ordination, to--

EVELYN BAILEY: Water?

WALT SZYMANSKI: Yeah, I'll take a glass of water.

Thank you.

EVELYN BAILEY: Go on, Walt.

WALT SZYMANSKI: But the bishop authorized it, as he must,

for me to bless the union of two women

and to inaugurate a discreet ministry, but authorized.

Because when the bishop was questioned

by other authorities in the diocese,

he affirmed that reality.

It became far more public when this happened.

In 1974, I was brought out in the Rochester newspaper

as an openly gay priest, active in a gay and lesbian ministry

in the Episcopal Diocese of Rochester.

My picture in that paper was larger

than the picture of the new Archbishop of Canterbury,

which I take great pride in.

Because of that--

I was working full-time for Roman Catholic Charities.

And the head of Roman Catholic Charities--

Bishop Hogan still was bishop.

The head of Roman Catholic Charities

was a priest who then called me into his office

and mentioned to me that--

and this made news afterwards--

that I no longer should be considered

for regular employment at the Roman Catholic Family

Center because of my questionable ministry

that is up against the theology and tradition and Roman

Catholic church.

That type of ministry doesn't exist

in the Roman Catholic church for gay and lesbian people.

And that it's very difficult for him

to see how I can continue in the employ of a Roman Catholic

agency.

So he asked for my resignation.

Following that, the United Way, which

was contributing to the Catholic Charities

began to confront that decision by the head of Catholic

Charities.

Mentioning that they didn't realize

that the certain theology came into play when

people came for services--

counseling services of the Roman Catholic agency.

And that the United Way might have

to look at renegotiating the funding, at which point,

Bishop Hogan removed the head of Catholic Charities

and sent them to a parish.

And Bishop Hogan assured the United Way

that things will be a little more open-minded for services

to the population of Rochester at Catholic Family Services.

That year about twelve professionals

left the Roman Catholic agency because of my resignation,

which was OK in a way.

Because shortly afterwards I was hired

as the program director for an up and coming youth agency,

the Center for Youth Services.

And we did very well.

In my employment there for five years,

we grew and we had many counselors.

And it was, for me, a magnificent experience

working with young counselors, with kids and everything.

When that newspaper article came out then

it was news that I was authorized for this mystery.

So the bishop decided to send a letter

to the entire diocese and all the clergy,

especially the clergy of the diocese.

And I won't read the whole letter, but just paraphrase.

It was June 27, 1974, when the ministry in Rochester

was made public--

never with any church, any mainline church,

from the words of a bishop.

"I enclose here with a copy of an article which

appeared the Rochester Democrat and Chronicle on Sunday, June

9, 1974, together with a copy of a brief article which

will be included, inconspicuously,

in the July issue of Diocese.

My reasons for sending you this information of events

are threefold."

And he goes through his reasons that he had already

authorized this as the bishop and that I

didn't do anything untoward.

I did everything with his permission.

"And I have sought and received the advice of the standing

committee in this matter and would ask you

to keep this under the cover.

But I assume, however, that later this year I

may wish to call the clergy of the diocese

together for a more extended conversation.

Faithfully yours, Bishop Robert Spears."

It takes a bishop.

Hillary Clinton used to say it takes a village

to raise children.

Well in the Episcopal church, it takes a bishop to do something.

And I give all of the credit to Bishop Spears.

They certainly put my picture in the newspaper

but the picture of the bishop should have been there.

But I think he would have refused.

This is a piece of history.

EVELYN BAILEY: Yes.

But the bishop wasn't the one who

was being questioned or on quote, unquote,

the front lines.

You were on the front lines, Walt.

And after all, the D and C wanted everyone

in the Rochester area to know who

you were, to make you easily identifiable,

so that they could avoid you or embrace you,

depending upon their own preference.

WALT SZYMANSKI: I remember several Diocesan Conventions.

We have them every year.

Questions were brought up, particularly

by more conservative, more evangelical people.

By what authority does this diocese

have to exercise such a ministry, which

we consider un-biblical?

And the bishop was sitting there conducting

the business of the convention and he

said, "I think Father Walt can answer that question--

Walter?"

So I was the go to person.

And I remember the gentleman--

I won't mention his name--

was the conservative benchmark of the diocese.

He was south of the diocese in the town.

And he and I, in my Roman Catholic days,

where I was very conservative, we used to bowl.

When we were in the same bowling league.

It's when I worked at the monastery

and I used to go to Geneseo to bowl.

And he and I would bowl and drink beer.

And I didn't know much about him.

I didn't even though he was Episcopalian back then.

Finally, when I was ordained an Episcopal priest

and became active in the business of the diocese,

this gentleman, I realized, was the Episcopalian deputy

to our Diocesan Conventions.

And he was the litmus test of conservatism in the diocese.

Well there was one in 1975, '76.

We were at St. Paul's Episcopal Church

for our Diocesan Convention.

And there was a line item--

a budget line item--

for the first time for the gay and lesbian ministry,

which the bishop called homophile ministry.

He didn't want to use homosexual.

He said, ""Phile' comes from the Greek word filia,

which means love-- love of the same."

And so there was a budget item for the homophile ministry.

I can tell you this.

I know this about the Episcopal Church--

nothing really gets carved in wood

until a budget item is passed.

And then you're really on board.

But there was a budget item.

And that's when questions were raised by many evangelicals

and conservatives that said, by what

standard does this diocese exercise

such an un-biblical ministry?

I remember this.

And there was this pause.

And the question was directed directly to the bishop

and that's when the bishop asked, "Well

I think Father Walt can handle that particular question.

Walter, would you-- Father Walt, would you address the issue?"

Talk about the Holy Spirit coming down.

So I got up.

I walked to the microphone and I said,

"I can tell you this, for as much as I know and believe

in the gospels."

I said, "At best, I can always tell you

that my entire ministry--

the gold standard of what I do in ministry,

and that includes ministry to the gay and lesbian community--

are the gospels of our Lord, Jesus Christ."

And I said, "There is no other standard."

There was this pause.

The conservative gentleman who I used to bowl with

got up to the microphone, to the astonishment of everybody,

and said, "You know we've been dealing

with this for several years.

I know Father Walt to be a good, honest,

and religious-minded man.

When he says that he exercises his ministries

under the standards of our Lord, Jesus Christ, I believe that."

And he said. " think it's time, now,

to put this thing to rest and pass the resolution of this

budget."

He said, "Enough is enough."

And he sat down.

It was unanimously passed, except for a few nays.

And the bishop came up to me and he said, "How do you?"

I said, "What?

We're friends."

He said, "Really?"

I said, "We go back."

So that's a beautiful story.

EVELYN BAILEY: It is.

And it gives testimony, not only to you, but to the fact

that when gay and lesbian people are known and are

friends with non-gay and lesbian people, that there's no issue.

WALT SZYMANSKI: You're absolutely right.

EVELYN BAILEY: There is no difference.

And there's no intolerance.

WALT SZYMANSKI: And when we--

we had to put things down and develop things in writing.

EVELYN BAILEY: Of course.

WALT SZYMANSKI: I published.

I published papers and documents for Integrity.

The first publication from the Homophile Commission

in the Diocese was a paper entitled

"Starting Off a Basis for Ministry to Gay People."

And we went all the way back to God is creative--

god is Yahweh.

And all the things that are biblical.

God is our creator.

God is Yahweh.

God is reconciling.

God is love.

God is faithful.

God is life-giving.

And based on that was our first paper for the Diocese.

What made it really special in Rochester was

I'm also a clinical fellow of the American Association

of Marriage and Family Therapy.

My background is marital and family and couples treatment.

And I'm also certified in drug and alcohol treatment

and psychiatric disorders that are co-morbid with addiction,

in the state of Pennsylvania.

So I'm a clinician, and I know human behavior.

So I instituted, at that time, as the Homophile Commission

was formed.

I was kind of like the chaplain to the Homophile Commission.

We had a lay-chairman.

At the same time, simultaneously, I

was instrumental in putting together the Diocesan Family

Commission.

And I was chaplain to that commission.

And what we did is we looked at the work

we were doing in the Homophile Commission,

realizing that this is really a family based ministry.

And we got that concurrence from the Family Commission.

So, the sense of the Homophile Commission

and the Family Commission doing things together that

came out of family life.

And this is what we presented as we

went parish to parish meeting with vestries asking them

would they open their doors and be

sensitive to the gay and lesbian members of their parish,

of their parish families.

We didn't ask for people from the outside.

All we asked is would you be open-minded to people

that are in your church.

I used to visit with members of the Homophile Commission.

And I represented two commissions.

And as I sat there with the vestries who

had to make that decision, with usually a priest who

was very anxious, I used to see tears

in the eyes of vestry members.

Because I would always tell them.

I said, "At least 25% of us Episcopalians

have a son or daughter, niece, nephew, aunt, uncle--

even mom or dad, or somebody that's

very close to us, a friend who is gay.

And is sitting in a closet and very scared."

And I said, "We know this."

And I said, "That's a large percentage of people."

I said, "And I'm being conservative."

And that's when I'd see tears in the eyes of people.

You know that worked.

They couldn't say no.

EVELYN BAILEY: No.

WALT SZYMANSKI: Because if they said no,

they weren't saying no to these outsiders,

these radicals marching.

No, we were talking about family life in the parish.

That was the stuff that made it.

And that was the model we used in Rochester.

Other dioceses throughout the church began to look at this

and started using the same model.

As a matter of fact, when Bishop Clark was bishop,

he became interested in family life.

It wasn't specific to gay and lesbian ministry,

but he wanted to get a more expansive view on family life.

And Janet Floyd, who was Roman Catholic and a counselor

at the Episcopal Diocese Office, invited me,

with the affirmation of the Roman Catholic bishop,

to join the Roman Catholic Family Commission,

to do the study.

And it was magnificent.

I still have the study--

the document.

And Bishop Clark-- it was interesting because

at that time, clinically, I was heavily

involved with people with developmental disabilities.

We called them mentally retarded.

We used the term developmental disabilities--

a program which stemmed out of my church.

And there was a bishop who inaugurated that program.

And I was I was the clinical director and supervisor

after I left the Center for Youth Services

at Calvary St. Andrews.

And I worked with people with disabilities.

That was my specialty.

And I remember sitting on that commission at that time

and we all went around talking about our particular interest.

And I remember Bishop Clark sitting there and I mentioned--

I said, "Yes, there are very peculiar difficulties

with the people I work with."

I said, "In terms of marriage."

I said, "In terms of being recognized as a couple."

And I said, "Being accepted in the community."

I was talking about developmentally disabled

people.

And Bishop Clark, who was looking at me,

says, "Oh, I understand Walt."

Because he was aware of my chaplaincy

to gay and lesbian comm--

and I knew he was thinking about the gay and lesbian population.

I said, "People with developmental disabilities

have a terrible time being recognized and even

being respected to having relationships."

And I looked at Bishop Clark.

And Bishop Clark says, "That's interesting."

He says, "I never thought of that."

Isn't that amazing?

EVELYN BAILEY: Yeah.

WALT SZYMANSKI: So I was kind of neutral.

I was being very neutral, so--

EVELYN BAILEY: Well, your contribution

to growth of human beings in their own faith

and in their own development, whether they

be gay, straight, lesbian, pink or purple,

has been extraordinary.

Because you have touched many lives.

And you have been instrumental in giving direction

to organizations and commissions and agencies

to look at what it truly means to minister

to the people of God in agencies that

are not necessarily churchy or Catholic or Episcopal

or anything else.

And that perspective is extremely critically important

when we talk about differences and helping people be

tolerant of differences.

This is my--

WALT SZYMANSKI: But the people who have ministered to me

were extraordinary.

And these are my gay lesbian brothers and sisters

who have suffered heroically.

They've done things far more than I could ever imagine.

They've taken risks far more than I could ever imagine,

under incredible circumstances.

I've never had to suffer.

I just told a gentleman the other day.

I said, "Yes, the Lord, Jesus, asked us to carry a cross

and carry that burden."

And I said, "Here's my cross."

And it's a tiny little cross.

I put it on my shoulder and said,

"That's about the size of cross I carried."

I said, "Nothing compares to the cross that I saw my--

the heroic efforts and burden of my gay brothers and sisters."

I said, "My God, if people can do that."

And I was in the army.

Can you imagine being gay and being

in the army or the military back then?

And to stay in the closet?

I said, "What they did to protect and defend

their brothers and sisters, even to the point of death--

they're my heroes.

They're the people that ministered to me."

I said, "Without them I couldn't have done it."

I said, "What am I worth?"

You understand?

EVELYN BAILEY: I do.

WALT SZYMANSKI: But for me, like I told you,

I didn't even know things were happening until people told me.

I said, "Really?"

Maybe being naive sometimes is very helpful.

The older I get, the more naive I get.

Do you know?

But the fun part of this whole thing

begins when I went to Pittsburgh,

which I told you was now from the most progressive element

of the Episcopal Church, to the most conservative, homophobic

element of Episcopal Church.

I wanted to go back to my hometown.

I was born and raised in Pittsburgh.

So I came back to my hometown where

there was an evangelical, charismatic, homophobic bishop,

who I needed a license--

because my priestly residence was Rochester.

So to practice ministry, to even celebrate communion,

I needed the license from that bishop.

I knew the odds were against me.

But I still wanted to go home.

And I love Pittsburgh.

My mother lived there and my family.

I was always a little heartsick for Pittsburgh

even when I was in Rochester.

So I returned and, naturally, the bishop called me

in for a conversation.

So I remember the conversation.

And he said, "Walter, you've got to understand

people are calling me and making the inquiry.

What am I doing back in--

well, no not back--

what am I doing in Pittsburgh?"

He says, "With your national notoriety in the Episcopal

Church, your addressing The General Convention."

In '91 in particular, that's when he walked out.

That was the demarcation.

That was '91 in Phoenix.

They would no longer ever consider

censoring an Episcopal bishop who ordained a gay priest.

And that's when I addressed the convention

and talked about my marriage to Margie, which came afterwards,

when I was in Rochester.

And I said, we think sometimes we can change, but we can't.

And that made it for a lot of bishops.

That made the difference.

And they never forgot me.

EVELYN BAILEY: So did you receive your license?

You must have.

WALT SZYMANSKI: Oh, yeah.

My first conversation with this--

Integrity didn't do me any favor by doing this.

EVELYN BAILEY: I'll tell Susan.

WALT SZYMANSKI: I knew I was in trouble when

I walked in the Bishop of Pittsburgh's office

when this was sitting on the table.

And he says, "What is this?"

I have two hometowns--

Pittsburgh and Rochester, which represent

two extremes of gay and lesbian acceptance within the church.

Rochester has been a history making-- he read this--

"history making decisions for the Episcopal church

and gay lesbian ministry.

Pittsburgh has been recognized as headquarters

for the biblical fundamentalist segment of the church.

They have their own seminary and the bishop of Pittsburgh

is well known within the church for his opposition

to gay and lesbian issues, such as same-sex marriages

and ordination of gay lesbian clergy."

And then there was something else

he didn't like that perhaps maybe I can

do a few things in Pittsburgh.

And he says, "You have to be naive, Walt,

not to know that people are calling me

as to why you're here."

And I said, "Well, what do you tell them, Bishop?"

He says, What do I tell them?"

He says, "I tell them what can I do about it?"

He says, "There's nothing under civil rights or authority

to stop anyone from moving back to their hometown."

He said, "I've told some people, my God, his mother lives here.

His family lives here."

He says, "I'm not going to stir that pot.

As long as Walter and I can come to a gentle person's

understanding of his presence in this diocese,

I'm going to license him."

He says, "I don't want to go there."

He said, "We've had enough at General Convention.

I'm not going to be pulled into this."

He says, "I don't have time or the energy for it."

I said, "Well thank you, Bishop."

Then he went on.

He says, "As long as you and I could understand

that you know where this diocese is

and not to do anything untoward that

would cause us difficulty."

He was looking at me.

"You understand, Walter?"

He said, "Because I will defend your license."

He said, "We'll find you a church."

And then I told him.

I said, "What do you mean untoward?

Marching down Grand Street-- which is the main street

in downtown Pittsburgh--

on gay pride day, carrying a rainbow flag with a megaphone?"

I said, "o, Bishop.

No, I won't be doing that."

I said, "I won't be on television or in newspapers

in Pittsburgh."

I said, "I'm getting to a place where

my legs are getting tired.

Let some young people march."

But anyway, I came to love that man.

He and I had a very close relationship.

And they did the down and dirty on him and they got rid of him.

He retired early.

His wife was very ill.

And I went to one of these Evangelical,

anti-gay gatherings in Atlanta--

where my former wife lived with her new husband--