Page 118 of Pride High 3: Yellow

“How did you meet?” Anthony asked. “And how long have you been together? Also, why did you keep your relationship a secret from us?”

“That’swhere we should begin,” Charles said, leaping on the last point.

“Agreed,” Mr. Finnegan said.

The server returned, and after an awkward conversation and two additional drink orders, they were finally left alone again. Anthony was desperate to hear what his journalism teacher had to say. As it turned out, it wasn’t so different than listening to one of his lectures in class.

“Let me paint a picture of what the early seventies were like for people such as ourselves,” Mr. Finnegan said. “The Stonewall Riots had just occurred in sixty-nine, the first pride parades were organized a year later, and we were still campaigning for the APA to remove homosexuality as a mental disorder. The likes of Harvey Milk wouldn’t be seen until the end of the decade.”

Anthony glanced over at Cameron, relieved when he saw the same blank expression. He wasn’t the only one who noticed. Mr. Finnegan appeared distraught.

“You can’t blame them, Francis,” Charles said, patting his husband’s arm again. “They don’t teach our history in school. Queer people are forced to rely on oral traditions.” He wagged a manicured fingernail at Cameron. “No jokes out of you, young man!”

“No promises,” Cameron said.

“Francis?” Anthony murmured to himself.

“Is it too early to have a drink?” Mr. Finnegan moaned.

“Yes,” Charles replied. “Now let me play teacher. You get to have this sort of fun every day.”

He cleared his throat. “I’ll give you a whirlwind tour of what homosexuals were up to while you were still a twinkle in your parents’ eyes. The Stonewall Inn was a gay bar in New York, which in that era, meant watered-down drinks and getting forcibly outed by the police if you refused to pay their blackmail demands. A group of exceptionally brave queens decided they were tired of that brand of bullshit and started a riot. As usual, the police responded by beating and imprisoning many of those who participated, but the screeching cat was out of the bag and refused to be stuffed back in again.”

“The next year,” Mr. Finnegan interjected, “the first pride parades were organized in New York, LA, San Francisco, and Chicago.”

“That’s correct,” Charles said, slapping his arm playfully, “but please raise your hand before speaking in my class.”

Anthony sought out Cameron’s hand under the table and squeezed, hoping that he was enjoying this just as much.

“We didn’t have any rights at the time,” Charles continued. “Not until seventy-two, and that was just in a single town somewhere. Minneapolis maybe? Yes, Francis, go ahead.”

Mr. Finnegan was holding up his hand, but he lowered it and said, “East Lansing, Michigan, actually.”

“Michigan?” Charles said with a grimace. “Dark days indeed!”

“We owe that city a debt of gratitude,” Mr. Finnegan replied.

“I know, but education should be fun,” Charles shot back. “Is he always this serious in class?”

“Yes,” Anthony said instantly. “But we like it,” he added hurriedly when Mr. Finnegan raised an eyebrow.

“I’m pleased to hear it.” Charles said with a smile. “So again, there was no legal protection for queer people. And according to the American Psychiatric Association, homosexuality was categorized as a mental disorder, listed right alongside conditions such as schizophrenia and dementia. It was around this time that I met a handsome young journalist. Over to you, darling!”

Mr. Finnegan cleared his throat. “While I didn’t have the opportunity to report on many LGBT issues myself, I certainly kept my ear to the ground.McConnell versus Andersonwas the first legal issue to catch my attention. James Michael McConnell was a librarian who was promised a position at the University of Minnesota. He even moved to the city, expecting to begin work, but his application was denied at the last minute when his would-be employers learned that he was in a relationship with another man. The case went all the way to the Supreme Court, where it was ruled that his constitutional rights were not violated.”

Charles tsked his tongue. “He should have looked for work in East Lansing instead. I love that city!"

Mr. Finnegan smiled before continuing. “The early seventies were a hotbed of discrimination for queer people. I learned of Peggy Burton next. She was a high school biology teacher who was respected among her peers until the principal heard a rumor that Peggy was a lesbian and fired her on the spot. Thankfully, Ms. Burton had a fighting spirit. Peggy became the first LGBT teacher in this country to file a federal civil lawsuit. She won damages but was never reinstated to her former position, even after an appeal.”

“That’s so unfair!” Anthony grumbled.

“Indeed,” Mr. Finnegan said. “It was only a year later in seventy-two that it happened again to Joe Acanfora, a gay earth sciences teacher who was transferred to an invented office position to get him away from the student body, even though there had been no allegations of inappropriate conduct. This was in Montgomery County, Maryland, and the school district claimed they only sequestered him based on the disruption his presence might cause, rather than his sexuality.”

“Wait,” Anthony said. “They basically hid him away, not for being gay, but because other people would make a big deal out of him being gay?”

“A subtle difference and a sly ploy,” Mr. Finnegan confirmed with a nod. “Joe didn’t take it lying down. He also sued, and made a lot of noise with the press.”

“There was even a piece on60 Minutes,” Charles said, “and believe me, it was rare to see the topic of homosexuality discussed on prime-time television with any sort of nuance.”