Audio Interview, Bill Destevens, February 15, 2012

EVELYN BAILEY: What I wanted to talk to you,

Bill, primarily about is D-I and your own story.

Are you from Rochester?

BILL DESTEVENS: No.

Uh-uh.

Pat and I are both from Oswego.

EVELYN BAILEY: OK.

BILL DESTEVENS: But we didn't meet until--

we met at D-I in '82.

EVELYN BAILEY: And did you grow up in Oswego?

BILL DESTEVENS: Yeah, I came to Rochester--

the other aspect of my life that I'm very fortunate about

is that I had a gay uncle who lived in Rochester,

retired from Kodak.

And I had a gay cousin who lived here.

So, when I got out of the Army in 1974, my lover at the time,

from high school, was living here.

And so I came to Rochester in February of 1974.

So that's how I ended up here.

And he was living-- he was renting

a room from my gay uncle in Monroe Avenue.

So I ended up living there as well.

EVELYN BAILEY: When you were in Oswego as a kid growing up,

was homosexuality--

BILL DESTEVENS: Discussed?

EVELYN BAILEY: --a word that was used?

BILL DESTEVENS: Oh, yeah.

Yeah.

Because of my gay uncle, my mother--

I come from a large family, seven kids.

I'm the youngest of seven.

And for as long as I can remember,

my mother's brother, who was the gay uncle that lived here

in Rochester, was always spoken of reverently by my mother.

Because he was the oldest.

And he and my mother were very close.

And he had a partner for thirty-five years.

And now, this is in the '50s and '60s.

And they would come to Oswego to visit the relatives.

And they always came to our house.

And it wasn't until later, after I moved here,

that my uncle told me our house was one of the few

they would feel comfortable coming to.

Because my father and mother were both so accepting of them.

And the word queer was never allowed

to be used in my house growing up.

Because my mother was so protective of her brother

that you didn't use the word queer.

You'd get a slap in the face if you did.

So I was very comfortable.

I pretty much knew all along that I was gay.

So I have no issue, really, about it at all.

EVELYN BAILEY: Mm-hm.

Hi, Pat.

PAT: Hello.

EVELYN BAILEY: How are you?

PAT: Fine.

You're being recorded, huh?

BILL DESTEVENS: I am.

EVELYN BAILEY: He is.

BILL DESTEVENS: Yes.

PAT: This is still going to go for a while, right?

BILL DESTEVENS: Oh, yeah.

EVELYN BAILEY: Oh, god yes.

PAT: Because I would run out to the store then.

BILL DESTEVENS: Yeah.

EVELYN BAILEY: OK.

PAT: All right.

BILL DESTEVENS: Yeah, we just got started.

PAT: Oh, OK.

EVELYN BAILEY: Yeah.

PAT: You got the books.

BILL DESTEVENS: Yeah.

EVELYN BAILEY: I haven't looked at them yet.

But I will.

PAT: OK.

You will be impressed.

Just going to make a pit stop.

BILL DESTEVENS: OK.

EVELYN BAILEY: OK.

PAT: (sighs) There was quite the ceremony today.

EVELYN BAILEY: Where were you?

PAT: At school.

EVELYN BAILEY: Oh.

PAT: They were New York State School of Character.

So Kevin Doran from Channel 8 was there.

And Miss New York State was there--

BILL DESTEVENS: Oh.

PAT: --the runner-up in the Miss America contest.

BILL DESTEVENS: Wow.

EVELYN BAILEY: Wow.

PAT: Everyone and their brother was there, so--

BILL DESTEVENS: Did you get your picture taken with her?

PAT: No, but if we watch the news tonight,

you may see me in the background.

BILL DESTEVENS: Ah.

With that white hair, it's hard to miss.

EVELYN BAILEY: Right.

So, you knew at a young age that you were gay.

BILL DESTEVENS: Yeah.

EVELYN BAILEY: What was your experience like in the Army,

or in the military service?

BILL DESTEVENS: Well, it was very positive.

When I-- well, let me back up.

When I was in high school, I met my first real boyfriend.

And I was a senior.

He was a junior.

And we fell in love.

And I planned on going off to college.

And then he was going to finish high school

and go off to college.

And then our plan was that we would eventually live together

and grow old together.

And then I got drafted.

Because the Vietnam War was still going on.

And so I got drafted in 1971, the year

I finished high school.

My first semester in college, I got my draft notice.

EVELYN BAILEY: Wow.

BILL DESTEVENS: And I was really on the horns of a dilemma.

Because I thought, well, what am I going to do?

And one of the questions on the entrance exam

is, are you a homosexual?

And my boyfriend/lover at the time, said,

you're going to tell them you are, aren't you?

So you don't have to serve?

And I said, I don't know what I'm going to tell them.

Because two of my older brothers had served in the Army.

So I felt some family pressure, in a way.

But on the other hand, I also thought, well,

just because I'm gay doesn't mean I can't serve my country.

And there were aspects of the military life that

actually were attractive to me.

So I answered it "no."

And I got accepted.

And I went in.

And I was very comfortable as a gay man.

And despite all the "don't ask, don't tell" stuff of late, back

in the early '70s, because of the draft

and because of Vietnam, most of the guys

that were there didn't want to be there,

including the officers and the senior NCOs.

And they didn't care, quite frankly.

So the subject really didn't come out in the open

until I'd finished training and I

was stationed at Fort Dix, New Jersey,

waiting for my next assignment.

And the first sergeant who was the senior NCO in the company--

I was the company clerk, the Radar O'Reilly, if you will--

(Bailey laughs) he came in one morning.

And he was reading the report from the night before

of the charge of barracks.

And he started chuckling.

And I said, what's so funny, First Sergeant?

And he said, oh, the sergeant in charge of barracks last night

caught private so-and-so and private so-and-so in bed

together.

Well, my heart stopped beating.

Because I thought, oh my god.

What's going to happen?

And so, he just went on with what he was doing.

And I said, well, do I need to type up

an Article 15, which is summary court martial proceedings.

And he said, oh, hell no.

I don't give a damn what two people do together.

He said, whatever gets you through the night.

And I was floored.

Because, number one, he was thirty-plus years in the Army.

He was black.

And it was not what I expected to hear.

But I was glad that that was his reaction.

And it turns out, these two guys,

who were late teens, maybe twenty,

were recognized as a couple in the company I was in.

And people would say, oh, there goes, you know,

Smith and Jones, whatever their names were.

Aren't they a cute couple?

Now, it was snide, said in a snide

way, certainly not an endorsement, necessarily.

But it wasn't derogatory.

And they weren't called names.

They weren't beaten up.

There wasn't a threat to discharge them.

So, it was several weeks after that that I invited my lover

to come down to Fort Dix.

And he actually spent the weekend in the barracks

with me.

Now, I had a private room because I

was an NCO at the time.

But I felt very comfortable having my boyfriend right there

in the barracks with me.

And I didn't want to get caught.

Because that would have been grounds for discharge.

But I was willing to take the risk because I

felt that comfortable.

Things changed when I got sent to Germany.

Because out of the blue, I got orders

for Germany, which didn't make sense

because I was going to be in for such a short period of time.

But my first sergeant said, never

argue when the Army tells you to do something.

Because half of what they tell you doesn't make sense.

Just do what you're told.

So I went to Germany as a personnel specialist.

And I was there two weeks when my company commander called me

in and he said, pack your bags.

You're going home.

And again, my heart went in my throat.

I thought, oh my god, they found out I'm gay

and I'm being discharged.

And I said, sir, why am I going home?

And he said, you've been selected

for the Hometown Recruiter Program, which makes no sense.

Because you've only been here two weeks.

You don't know anything about this unit.

You don't know anything about Germany.

But you've been selected, based on your performance

records and your test scores, to represent the third Armored

Division in your hometown as a recruiter.

So you're being sent back for ninety days of temporary duty.

So I came home and worked in the local recruiting station

in Oswego with the recruiter, trying to encourage investments

for the third Armored Division.

And that's when I first came to Rochester.

It was fall of 1973.

And my boyfriend had moved to Rochester

and was renting a room from my gay uncle

after I got sent to Germany.

And he said, can you come up to Rochester for the weekend?

I'd like to go out to a gay bar.

And I said, oh, yeah.

Yeah, we really need to do that.

So I didn't have a car.

I mentioned it to the Army sergeant of the recruiting

station.

He said, well, here, take the staff car--

the Army staff car.

US Army painted on the side.

And he said, and here's a credit card, for gas.

Use the car all weekend.

So I drove the Army staff car to Rochester.

I picked him up.

We drove to Jim's.

And I thought nothing of being there in an Army vehicle,

going to a gay bar.

And that was my first experience with the gay community

in Rochester in the fall of 1973.

EVELYN BAILEY: Wow.

BILL DESTEVENS: And our next visit there,

the next weekend, I met Bruce Colburn.

So I've known Bruce longer than anybody in the gay community.

But that's how we met.

I was still in the Army when I met him.

EVELYN BAILEY: What was Jim's like?

BILL DESTEVENS: Well, it was--

EVELYN BAILEY: Do you remember?

BILL DESTEVENS: Oh, yeah.

Yeah I remember it very vividly.

When you walked in, there was the bar in the front.

And then you walked through the bar into a middle room

where they had tables and chairs,

and then into the back room, which is where the dance

floor was, and the pool table.

And I think my first reaction was, oh my god,

there's more people like us.

Because other than my gay cousin, who

lived with my gay uncle in Rochester,

my partner/lover and I at the time

didn't know any other gay people.

And you know, that feeling of we're all by ourselves here.

So it was a Saturday night.

The place was jammed.

And they were all young, like us, for the most part.

And it was such a positive feeling

that these are all normal-looking people.

And we're here, and we're with them, and isn't this great?

EVELYN BAILEY: Yeah.

BILL DESTEVENS: So it was a very positive--

and then when I met Bruce, Bruce and I

became best friends instantly.

And we've been friends ever since.

It started building that foundation of friendship.

My gay uncle always said to me, your lovers will come and go.

But your friends will always be there.

So nurture your friendships.

And he was so right.

Because I've had numerous relations over the years--

relationships.

But people like Bruce who have been a rock for me

all these years is one of the reasons why I

want to come back to Rochester.

Because this is really home for me.

And Jim's was a very important part

of my accepting myself as a gay person,

getting that positive reinforcement that there are

other people like me out there.

EVELYN BAILEY: Were you ever at Jim's when it was raided--

BILL DESTEVENS: No.

EVELYN BAILEY: --or when the police came in?

BILL DESTEVENS: No.

I honestly don't remember any of that happening after 1973.

Now, it may have.

But I don't remember it ever being raided when I was there.

I think all of that was pretty much passed.

Because Gordon Urlacher-- when you mentioned that name

earlier--

I remember that name from those days.

So I think there was already--

I may be mistaken-- but I think there

may have already been a liaison to the gay community then.

But, yeah.

There was never any issue about being worried about arrests

or harassment by the police.

Not at all.

EVELYN BAILEY: When did you move,

or when did you get connected to D-I?

BILL DESTEVENS: Well, after I finished

my temporary assignment with the Army and went back to Germany,

I finished out my tour there.

But let me share this part with you.

Because I mentioned earlier that my experience

being gay in the Army changed a little bit

when I went to Germany.

When I went back and settled into my job

there as a personnel specialist, my job ironically

became processing administrative separations for homosexuality

and drug use for the third Armored Division, which was

a major division of the Army.

So I ended up processing a number of discharges

for homosexuality, one of them being a career

military officer.

And it literally ruined the man's life, which

really bothered me terribly.

Because I did not want to be involved in that, knowing what

the consequences were going to be.

And I tried to get that case assigned to somebody else.

But my commanding officer said, no, it's your responsibility.

And he was a first lieutenant.

And he was West Point.

His father was a retired Army general.

And he was an only child.

And he ended up having a relationship

with an enlisted man.

And ironically, when we took the case before the Judge Advocate

General of the division, who was a colonel,

to recommend a discharge-- we were recommending a general

discharge, which is kind of neutral--

he was adamant about a dishonorable,

not so much because the guy was gay,

but because he had gotten involved with an enlisted man.

And in the Army, as an officer, you

don't associate with enlisted people in a personal level.

So that upset him more than the fact that there

was homosexuality involved.

Although that was a deciding factor.

He said, when I look at both of the reasons, bad conduct

discharge, which is the worst you can get.

So the poor guy was drummed out of the Army.

And his reputation, his relationship with his father--

it was a very sad experience.

But all the other ones that I processed

were actually guys that were drafted into the Army that

didn't want to be there.

Because I had to interview them as part of the process.

They were not really gay.

They were just having gay sex in order to get discharged.

And that was the other side of the coin.

So it was quite an experience.

EVELYN BAILEY: Wow.

BILL DESTEVENS: And all the time, I'm in the closet,

if you will, myself, kind of wondering--

trying to sort all that out, in terms

of how I really felt about it.

So, when I finished my term in February of '74,

I came right to Rochester to settle.

Because I knew that I wanted to be somewhere other than Oswego,

where there really was no future in terms of a career.

And with my gay uncle here, and my gay cousin--

by then, my boyfriend/lover had found somebody else.

But we still cared about each other.

He was here.

Bruce Colburn was here, as a friend.

And I'd met several other people in the bar that

were casual friends, that I knew I

had a basis to work from in terms of establishing myself.

So that December is when I met my next boyfriend/lover.

And we got together and lived together.

And then I took a job with Security Trust Company.

And the following fall, he and I moved to New York City,

where he got a job.

And I went to school at Pace University.

And we stayed there a year.

And then his job transferred him back to Rochester.

So it was 1976 when I came back.

So I was here from '74 to '75, and then came back

in 1976, summer of '76.

And it was a year later, in '77, that I started going to D-I

and met Jim Moran, and Tim Sally,

and Margaret Mary and Cindy, Bill Metz, all the people that

were there.

Kevin Scahill of course.

JR Keefer.

And that was even 100 times more positive than the experience

at Jim's.

Because I was born and raised a Catholic.

But I'd been away from the church, actually, since 1968

when my mother died.

And I really longed for a connection with my faith again.

And my gayness was really keeping me away.

Because when my mother died, I went to confession

in order to go to communion.

And I thought, now's the time to kind of clear my conscience.

Because I want to go to communion in good faith.

So I told the priest that I was gay.

And he read me the riot act, fire and brimstone.

Unfortunately, it was a visiting priest

from a very conservative diocese down south somewhere.

And he made me feel so bad about myself

that I walked out of the confessional,

didn't bother to go to the communion rail

to say my penance.

I walked out of the church and said, the hell with that.

If that's what this church thinks of me,

I don't need this church.

So I walked away from the Catholic church.

So, Dignity was warm embrace back into the church again.

And so I just jumped in head first

and was inspired by people like Margaret Mary and Cindy,

and Tim Sally, and Kevin Scahill and all the other people that

were so involved, both in the church and in the community.

And I just got swept into that sense of responsibility

and can-do attitude.

And it was great.

I mean, that laid the whole foundation for the future

for me.

EVELYN BAILEY: Now, if you recall,

how long had D-I been in existence--

BILL DESTEVENS: Two years.

EVELYN BAILEY: --when you--

So, D-I--

BILL DESTEVENS: D-I was formally started in 1975.

So it was just two years old when I joined.

EVELYN BAILEY: Now, dignity is the Catholic.

BILL DESTEVENS: Mm-hm.

EVELYN BAILEY: And Integrity is the Episcopal.

BILL DESTEVENS: Right.

EVELYN BAILEY: Integrity had been around before that.

BILL DESTEVENS: I think so.

EVELYN BAILEY: Right?

BILL DESTEVENS: I think so.

You'll find a lot of that good information in the material

that Pat put together.

But when it first started in Rochester, they were separate.

Dignity was separate from Integrity.

Because they were different national organizations.

And then I think in '76--

I'm not sure, but it's in the material there--

I think in '76, they combined as one organization.

Because they were finding that they couldn't really

survive on their own.

The groups were too small.

And so they put their heads together and came up

with this idea, well, why don't we form a combined chapter?

And they went to both national offices

and said, yeah, go ahead.

And so Rochester was the first combined Dignity-Integrity

chapter in the country.

EVELYN BAILEY: And was it Walt Szymanski who

made the overture to Bruce?

Who was the chaplain?

BILL DESTEVENS: The chaplain when I joined was Ted Abel.

And he's still around, from what I understand.

EVELYN BAILEY: Right.

BILL DESTEVENS: So he was the official chaplain for Dignity,

appointed not by the bishop, but by George Cocuzzi, Monsignor

Cocuzzi, who was the head of the Office of Special Ministry

of the Catholic diocese.

So Kevin Scahill I believe, went to George Cocuzzi and said,

we'd like to be affiliated with the Office of Special Ministry.

And we need a priest on a regular basis.

So I believe it was George that went to Ted and said,

would you be willing to minister to this community?

And when it first started, and looking through the archives

that Pat brought home--

I never knew this.

But they first met at St. Patrick's Catholic Church

on Plymouth Avenue in downtown Rochester,

which doesn't exist anymore.

It actually was at the corner of Plymouth.

And there's a Kodak office building there now.

And there's a plaque on the building that said, St.

Patrick's-- it was the Cathedral Church, I believe--

that that's where the church was.

So that's where they first met, the Dignity group.

And I think the Integrity group met at St. Luke's.

And then when they combined, they

ended up meeting at St. Luke's because of Bruce Hanson.

EVELYN BAILEY: And was Bruce the chaplain of Integrity?

BILL DESTEVENS: I think it was actually Walt Szymanski.

But I'm not sure, to be honest with you.

It may have been both of them.

They may have been co-chaplains.

Because Walt was definitely involved.

Because he was pastor of--

he had his own church at the time.

I can't remember the name of it.

But it's in the South Wedge.

EVELYN BAILEY: St. Ambrose?

BILL DESTEVENS: No.

In the South Wedge.

St. Andr-- Ann--

EVELYN BAILEY: St. Ann's?

BILL DESTEVENS: Nope.

Run right around the corner from Bruce Colburn.

I'll think of it.

But he was the pastor there.

And Bruce was the pastor at St. Luke's.

And in my mind and recollection, I always

consider them co-chaplains.

Because they would take turns celebrating the Episcopal

service.

Because we did a Catholic mass on three

Sundays of the month, and then the Episcopal service

the fourth Sunday.

EVELYN BAILEY: Right.

BILL DESTEVENS: And it was either Bruce or Walt.

But they were both actively involved then.

EVELYN BAILEY: So, Walt had already

left the Catholic Church and--

BILL DESTEVENS: Yes.

EVELYN BAILEY: --was a Presbyterian.

BILL DESTEVENS: Episcopalian.

EVELYN BAILEY: Episcopalian.

BILL DESTEVENS: Yeah.

EVELYN BAILEY: OK.

BILL DESTEVENS: Yeah.

And he was married, I think, at the time,

still married, if I'm not mistaken.

But dealing with his sexuality.

EVELYN BAILEY: Mm-hm.

In those early days, the people who

came to D-I, what were they looking for?

What were you looking for?

BILL DESTEVENS: I think two things.

One was to reconnect with the Catholic Church in a setting

where I felt welcome and where I could be myself.

And the other thing was a social community.

Because D-I had the coffee hour after church every Sunday

and then a lot of social events that Gary Cicarelli--

he was another early member--

that he called stitch-and-bitch, which, you know,

the famous social events.

And then we had potlucks and things like that.

And the first time I went, I didn't

know the social aspect of it.

I just knew that there was this group of Catholic gay people

that met every Sunday for church.

And so I went, initially, just looking

for spiritual fulfillment and a place

where I could be comfortable and feel welcomed, and resume

my faith tradition.

But when I got there and I quickly

came up to speed, in terms of all the other things

that D-I was involved in, then it

became a religious and social experience for me.

EVELYN BAILEY: Mm-hm.

BILL DESTEVENS: And political.

That was the third part of it, I'd have to say.

And that was primarily Tim Sally, and John Noble.

They were on the forefront in terms

of the politics of being gay.

And that part didn't interest me at all.

And it kind of scared me, actually.

Because I wasn't quite ready to be out of the closet at work.

Because I was working at Kodak then.

I started with Kodak in '76.

And even though I knew Kodak to be a progressive company,

and a lot of gay people I knew worked there,

I wasn't ready to be out at work.

So I was always shy about getting involved

in all these visible activities politically

that Tim Sally felt very comfortable with,

and John Noble, and others.

So I was more than happy to write a check

and support them financially.

But I was a little bit shy at that time

when it came to the politics.

EVELYN BAILEY: Did you still go out to the bars?

BILL DESTEVENS: Yeah.

EVELYN BAILEY: And--

BILL DESTEVENS: Socialize.

Yeah.

EVELYN BAILEY: Jim's was still--

BILL DESTEVENS: Jim's was going strong.

At that time, the other big popular bar

was on Monroe Avenue.

It's still there.

But I think it's something different.

EVELYN BAILEY: Friars?

BILL DESTEVENS: Friars.

Yeah.

So, Jim's was the big bar, in terms of size

and in terms of popularity.

And then Friars opened.

And then that became the other major draw

for the gay community.

And then Tara opened.

And Tara was a piano bar.

So that was a different kind of venue.

Those were the ones that I--

Rosie's, the first-- well, not the first lesbian bar.

But they were what the women and the men at the time

referred to as the first decent lesbian bar.

Because the one prior to that that I remember

was along the river, by the library.

The Riverview was it?

EVELYN BAILEY: Riverview.

BILL DESTEVENS: Riverview.

EVELYN BAILEY: Right.

BILL DESTEVENS: And it was affectionately

referred to as "riverbottom" by a lot of people.

Because it was kind of grungy and dark.

And all the tough women went there.

And then the other one that I remember

that was pretty popular was the LA Saloon, on Lake Avenue,

up in Charlotte.

EVELYN BAILEY: OK.

BILL DESTEVENS: It wasn't called that then.

It was called something-- oh, it was called--

oh, gosh.

Bullwinkle's.

And that was a piano bar.

It was very small.

And it was not a dance bar.

It was a piano bar.

So it was kind of like Tara.

And then another early one that I remember that I didn't really

go to very often, but had been there a long time,

was Martha's on State Street, downtown.

I think it was called Dick's, actually.

Her husband's name was Dick.

EVELYN BAILEY: Right.

BILL DESTEVENS: Martha ran it.

And that was strictly a bar.

There was no dancing.

And there was really no music.

And was just a bar.

And it wasn't really a gay bar, per se.

But you could go there and be comfortable as a gay person.

Dick's 43, it was called.

EVELYN BAILEY: Right.

BILL DESTEVENS: And my gay cousin,

who was about ten years older than me,

when I moved to Rochester, he told me

that that was the bar that he first went

to when he moved to Rochester.

It'd kind of been a landmark.

And again, it wasn't a gay bar per se,

but it was a bar where you could be comfortable

going to as a gay person.

EVELYN BAILEY: Is your cousin still alive?

BILL DESTEVENS: No, he just died, actually,

within the past six months.

EVELYN BAILEY: Oh, wow.

BILL DESTEVENS: Yeah.

EVELYN BAILEY: And your cousin?

BILL DESTEVENS: Hm?

EVELYN BAILEY: Your gay cousin?

BILL DESTEVENS: That's the one that you just asked me

if he was still alive.

EVELYN BAILEY: Oh.

So your uncle has passed.

BILL DESTEVENS: Oh, both my uncle and my cousin.

Yeah.

Yeah, my uncle died while I was still living in New York, 1975.

And then my cousin just died within the past six months.

EVELYN BAILEY: Mm.

When you were first going to D-I,

the very first time you went to Dignity-Integrity,

what was it like for you?

BILL DESTEVENS: If I could describe it

in a couple of words, I guess--

I think the first word that comes to mind is relief.

Because I was very apprehensive, going.

Because-- a couple of reasons.

One, I've never been--

well, at that time, I should say,

I was extremely shy and introverted.

And I was not good in crowds.

I did not have a very good--

I had a very low sense of self-esteem, actually.

And I really didn't like myself.

And that manifested itself years later.

But I had a very low sense of self-esteem.

And the thought of going into a crowd of any kind

was intimidating for me.

But the thought of going into a crowd of other gay people

was even more intimidating to me.

Because I thought, well, as soon as I walk in the door,

they're going to know I'm gay.

This is how your mind worked, you know.

And what's the reaction going to be?

Am I going to feel better about myself?

Am I going to feel worse about myself?

Am I going to be judged?

What are they going to think about me?

And so when I went in, the reaction, of course,

was just the opposite.

Jim Moran was the first person to come up and greet me.

And he said, have you been here before?

I said, no.

He said, well, welcome, and it's good to see you.

And it's good to have you here.

And that instantly took away my fear

and made me feel good that, wow, I guess it's OK.

And then Bill Metz greeted me, and Tim Sally,

and Margaret Mary and Cindy.

And by the time I left after that first meeting,

my self-esteem had gone up considerably.

Because I felt that these are good people.

And they obviously had some religious motivation.

So to me, that meant a lot.

And, of course, Bruce Hanson, and Walt Szymanski.

And it was probably a Catholic Sunday,

so there would have been a Catholic priest there.

And I just walked out of there kind of on air.

Because I felt, wow, I really--

this has been a wonderful experience.

And I can't wait to go back next Sunday.

EVELYN BAILEY: Did you have the same feeling going into Jim's?

BILL DESTEVENS: Yes, but slightly different.

My mother was an alcoholic.

And she died of alcoholism.

So I was always very averse to drinkers.

And I was never a bar person.

And I would have preferred to go to a different social outlet

to meet people than a bar.

But at that time, it was the bars.

So my boyfriend and I at the time said, well--

you know, he wasn't a drinker either-- but we said, you know,

we have no other choice.

And so my first reaction was, I hate this place

because it's a bar.

And people smoked in the bars in those days.

I'd never been a smoker.

So between the smell of the alcohol, which brought back

a lot of bad memories, and then the cigarette

smoke and very loud music, at first it was like, oh, god.

What we have to go through to be part of a community.

That was kind of my first reaction.

But once I got beyond the bar and into the middle room, which

was quieter and it was more of a-- tables and chairs, where

you could sit and talk, then I thought, well, this is better.

And then in the dance room, to actually see men dancing

together for the first time--

and I loved disco music.

So, of course, that was the height of the disco era.

Then it became this gradual transition

from stepping into the bar, the middle room, and then

the back room, and then looking around and seeing

people that seemed normal.

They all had a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other,

which I didn't like.

So it was different in that respect.

But if you take those qualities out of it

and just look at the people, it was similar,

in that they look just like me.

And they're smiling, they're acknowledging my presence,

and they seem to be really having a good time.

So in that respect, it was similar.

EVELYN BAILEY: Which of those two places

would you identify as home?

BILL DESTEVENS: Dignity.

Dignity-Integrity.

Yeah, without a doubt.

Primarily because I, again, I have an aversion to bars.

I always have.

Remember, now, I discovered the bars, if you will, in '73.

I didn't discover Dignity-Integrity until '77.

There were a lot of gay bars in between that time.

And I never liked that experience, per se,

of having to meet people in a bar.

So that was, I think, another reason

why the Dignity-Integrity experience for me

was so positive-- that it was someplace other than a bar.

So you didn't have the alcohol.

You didn't have the cigarette smoke.

And it was a religious environment, if you will,

a spiritual environment.

So, yeah, D-I clearly became my home.

EVELYN BAILEY: What did you think about the Church

at that time, the Catholic Church?

Because it has never been the approval stamp for people.

BILL DESTEVENS: Mm-hm.

EVELYN BAILEY: But at the same time,

there's been a shift over the past twenty years

that has really defined homosexuality

for the Church as an unacceptable--

BILL DESTEVENS: Intrinsically evil, yeah.

EVELYN BAILEY: Right.

BILL DESTEVENS: Yeah.

It was a very, very different mindset then.

And that's a good analogy, now versus then.

In the last-- well, since the Nazi pope was elected--

I have no respect for that man in any respect,

in any way, shape, or form.

He's dragged the Church back 1,000 years in my opinion,

and a lot of other people's opinion.

It was a very different feeling in the early 1970s.

And I define the Church locally, nationally, and globally.

And there's an old saying, all politics is local.

Well, the Church is a political organization.

So there's the local church, the national church,

and the international church.

And after my experience back in 1968, with that priest--

that was a local experience, if you will.

But in my own parish, where I always felt comfortable,

the parish I grew up in.

I went to Catholic school till I was fourth grade.

And he was an outsider.

But he still represented the Church.

And here was a member of the Church telling me

that I was evil.

And I rejected it, and said, if that's

a representative of the Church-- not necessarily

my local parish, but of the Church-- telling me

that I am evil, then I don't need that.

So I broke away.

In '77, in Rochester, the local church,

the bishop was Bishop Hogan, the Catholic bishop.

And one of the first questions I asked, I think,

when I started going to D-I on a regular basis

was, well, what does the bishop say about this?

You know, how can this be?

How can these priests be coming here and ministering

to people that are openly gay?

And it wasn't that I had any preconceived notion.

But I was curious.

And they said, well, our bishop is very supportive.

As a matter of fact, there's this agency

of the diocese called Special Ministry.

And we're actually a part of that.

Well, I was flabbergasted that there was a local church--

even though we were at an Episcopal church,

we could have gone to Catholic church

and been equally accepted.

But the local bishop was supporting the gay community.

And that just blew my mind.

So I thought, you know, what happens beyond the diocese,

I don't care.

Because if there's a bishop that's willing to support us,

then that's a reason for hope.

And maybe things are turning around

in the church in general.

And that was part of the encouragement

to continue going.

And that's why I felt that there was something going on here.

It wasn't just coming to church every Sunday,

and receiving the sacrament of communion,

and socializing, going home and coming back,

repeat, repeat, repeat.

There was something going on there,

that there was this sense that this group of people, locally,

and then nationally-- because I didn't know anything about

Dignity or Integrity National--

were really organizing to work from within the church

to change things.

And that, to me, was so phenomenal

that I wanted to be a part of that.

And the spirit of optimism that people had,

that we're working to change the church from within,

and we're getting support from our local bishop,

was like, this is absolutely where I want to be.

And what really, I think--

well, I don't think, I know-- but what really motivated