David Hooks Up with the Bible Boy of Castro Street

San Francisco, June 1996

I'm starting a new part-time job at the San Francisco AIDS Foundation.  During my all-day orientation, I meet a newcomer to the City, David:

Older than me, balding, handsome, with a bright open preacher's face. Rather buffed, with a thick neck, thick arms and a furry barrel chest.  That aggressively friendly, ever-cheerful "How are ya!"  manner that you see with guys whose jobs require you to like them.

He tells us that six months ago, he was a conservative Baptist minister in Arkansas, married with children.  Then, on his 43rd birthday, he came out.  He had his first same-sex experience, divorced his wife, read a lot of pro-gay books, and moved to San Francisco.

He has moved into an apartment in the Castro with another ex-Baptist minister, joined a gym, and found a (full time) job at the AIDS Foundation.  Now he's anxious to try everything the gay world has to offer, especially the sex.

"No sex for the first 43 years of my life!" he exclaims.  "Unless you count my ex-wife.  Just fantasies.  I have to get up to speed.   I bet I can get with a thousand guys in the next year, three a day, if I work at it."

He glances at the concerned faces of the other employees of the AIDS Foundation.  "What?  I'll be safe, of course.  I carry a package of condoms with me at all times."

After orientation David and I take the Muni to Castro Street for dinner.  We bond over tales of childhood deprivations and crazy fundamentalist relatives -- and hot men.  He is relishing his freedom to talk openly about hot guys for the first time in his life.

There's no question that we'll hook up -- that's a given.  You make new friends in San Francisco by sharing their bed. But I'm more interested in hanging out, in exploring the gay world through David's eyes.

Outside the Castro Street Station, we come across two screamers.

You see screamers frequently in gay neighborhoods, at events like Gay Pride and the AIDS Walk, or sometimes on an ordinary summer afternoon:  heteros waving signs and shouting Bible verses and generally expressing how much they hate us.

Usually they come in groups, so the sodomites won't be able to rape and murder them as easily, but today there are only two:

1. A middle aged man, slim, grey-haired, sweating in a business suit, carrying a sign that reads "Homosexuality is an abomination in the eyes of the Lord," snarling and shouting invectives at the passersby:

"Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind!"

2. The Bible boy, slim and blond in a business suit, but considerably more handsome, with blue eyes and sharp features, looking down at his feet -- because he doesn't like being around sodomites, or because he doesn't like being around his dad?  He's carrying a large King James Bible.

I know the drill -- cross the street if you can.  Don't make eye contact, don't speak, don't engage with the screamers in any way.

But does David?  Will the former Baptist preacher engage?  Or will his fundamentalist brainwashing kick in, resulting in guilt, self-recrimination, and a decision to turn "ex-gay"?

I don't want to find out.  "Come on, let's go this way," I say, pulling David's arm.

"Are you kidding?  That boy is hot!"

"He's a screamer!"

David laughs.  "I hope so.  Do you like twinks?"

"Sure, but...cruising a screamer?  Are you crazy?"

"Yes.  And horny.  Do you mind if I bring in a third for tonight."

Soon I will be used to David cruising anyone, anywhere, but now I'm shocked.  A screamer, in front of his Dad!

We approach Bible Boy while the main screamer is yelling at a heterosexual couple for promoting sodomy.

David smiles and holds out his massive hand.  Bible Boy smiles shyly.  I can hear him thinking, "This isn't what a sodomite looks like!  Why isn't he wearing a dress?"

"My name is David, and this is Boomer."

"Kyle.  Have you ever heard of the Four Spiritual Laws?"

That old soulwinning routine?  I learned that in high school!

David says "ἐγὼ ἦλθον ἵνα ζωὴν ἔχωσιν καὶ περισσὸν ἔχωσιν."

Bible Boy stares.

"John 10:10: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.  B.A. in Classical Studies from the University of Arkansas, M.A. in Latin from Tulane University, M. Div. from the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary."

His eyes widen.  "Wow, that's impressive.  How did you..."  He stops himself from saying "How did you sink into such unholy degradation..."

"Can you take a break?  I'll tell you all about my journey from Pine Bluff, Arkansas to Castro Street."

"Um...I don't drink."

"Do you eat hamburgers?"

He yells to the Preacher that he's going witnessing, and we go to Orphan Andy's for burgers and fries.

Kyle is 18 years old, a new high school graduate who plans to attend UC Santa Cruz next fall ("Boy, did my folks squawk about that!  A heathen college full of atheists and sodomites!")

The older guy is actually his youth minister.  There are six other members of his youth group scattered around town, brandishing signs and screaming to spread the Good News, but Kyle, a shy, sensitive, quiet boy, couldn't find a partner, so the preacher said 'Just stick by me.'"

"I wasn't even going to come.  I hate soulwinning," Kyle explains.  "But I wanted to see what real sodomites look like.  Besides, we're going to get ice cream later."

Nice youth group outing, screaming and fudge ripple!

"You don't really believe all that 'abomination in the eyes of the Lord' stuff, do you?" David asks.

"Well, I have to believe what the Lord says in His Word, even if I don't understand it.  I mean, you look at cute guys, and think, what would be wrong with touching them?  But the Lord says it's an abomination, so...."

Chuckling,  David pulls out his Greek and Hebrew and demolishes every homophobic interpretation of the "Big Five" Bible verses.  From the story of Sodom to the "strange flesh" of Jude.

We end up back at his apartment.

David and Bible Boy kiss while I go down on them at the same time.  David has a thick uncut Bratwurst+, and Bible Boy is average, cut, and ruddy.  They get into the 69 position and leave me out for awhile, but then Bible Boy goes down on me until I finish.  David pulls out a condom and introduces him to anal.

Then Bible Boy -- Kyle - dresses, thanks us both, and returns to his youth group for ice cream.

David and I look at each other.  He grins.  "I could tell he was gay from a block away.  It was just a matter of getting him away from that darned youth leader."

I am completely overwhelmed.  Even Alan was nothing like this!

"That's two guys," he says.  "My goal is three a day, so I need one more.  Want to go cruising?"

See also: David and the Homeless Teenager

I Share the South-of-Market Bear's Boyfriend

San Francisco, March 1996

Lane and I were living in San Francisco, gay heaven.  I was 35 years old, far beyond my twink years.  He was 40, graduated to Daddy.

We rarely saw anyone under 30.  San Francisco is hard; it takes time, money, and strategy.  Most twinks and Cute Young Things can't manage it.

Our circle of friends consisted entirely of guys in their 40s and 50s: chubby, bearded bears or smooth musclemen, with nipple rings and tattoos, black handkerchiefs in their pocket, handcuffs attached to their belt loops.

They worked entirely within the gay community: as a leather craftsman, the manager of a travel agency that catered mostly to gay men, an AIDS support specialist, a  lawyer whose clients were exclusively gay men, an artist who made leather bears to sell to gay tourists.



Our best friend was probably Drake, the leather bear artist (left) -- teddy bears in bulging chaps, in leather jackets, carrying whips and gay flags.  He was 53 years old, husky but muscular, with a hairy chest, prominent nipples, and nice biceps.  Kielbasa+ beneath the belt, uncut.  A bondage bottom.

His boyfriend, Darrell the Cartoonist, was younger, in his mid-40s (ten years, the limit to an acceptable match!), already mostly bald, with a salt and pepper beard.  Moderately hairy chest, cut Bratwurst.  A bondage top (below).

We didn't see Darrell much.  We went out to dinner once and "shared" after, but he didn't go out to the bars or the bear parties. In fact, some guys in our circle of friends wondered if Darrell existed at all, or if he was just an excuse to not "get out there and date."

One day just before Halloween, the start of the gay social season, Darrell was in Oklahoma visiting his parents, when his allergies started acting up.  He took an antihistamine, drank a glass of wine with it, and died.

The funeral was in Oklahoma.  We didn't go.

But this story is about Drake's new boyfriend.

A couple of weeks after Darrell's death, Drake returned to the gay social world.

Beer/soda bust at the Lone Eagle
Underwear contest at the Lone Star
An AIDS benefit at the Metropolitan Community Church
A book signing at Different Light
The bear parties every Wednesday and Friday night.


We saw Drake at every event, eating, drinking, socializing, cruising.  But he didn't hook up with anyone, not even at the bear parties, he didn't ask anyone for dates.  He always went home alone.

Why do you go to a bear party without even looking for someone to share your bed?

At Christmastime, Lane and I tried to fix him up with a guy we knew, but he refused: "Been there, done that.  The domestic thing isn't for me, anyway.  Too many rules."

So we let him alone.

Then one day in March 1996, Drake met us at brunch after church and announced: "I have a new boyfriend!  Last night was our third date!"

Lane and I glanced at each other in surprise.

"Your first date in months!" I exclaimed.  "Why didn't you tell us about it before?"

He stared down at his menu.  "Oh, I didn't want you guys making a big deal about it until I was sure."

"Well, we're making a big deal of it now," Lane said.  "Where did you meet him?  What is he like?  Details, details!"

"His name is Zack.  He saw some of my bears at All American Boy and asked about the artist. He's from across the Bay."

Very vague.  "So, are you bringing him to the beer bust at the Eagle?"

"Um...no, he had to get home."

I frowned.  You were expected to introduce new boyfriends to "the family" on the second or third date.  He had to be evaluated, to make sure he was good enough for you, that he would fit into our world.  And he had to be "shared."

Tuesday night underwear contest.  Drake, but no Zack.

"Oh, he would win so easily, I wanted to give you other guys a chance."

Wednesday night bear party. Drake, but no Zack.

"Oh, he's uncomfortable in big crowds like this."

Saturday night dance at the Metropolitan Community Church.  Drake, but no Zack.

"He's got a thing tonight."

The next week, more of the same.

We asked around.  No one had met Zack.

Was Drake just making him up?  Or was he so spectacularly attractive that he didn't want to risk getting him stolen away?

Or was he embarrassingly ugly?

Time to take the initiative.  We invited Drake and Zack to dinner -- not in our apartment, too small, but at the Ethiopian restaurant down the street.

Ethiopian food comes in dabs of colorful mashed vegetables and minced meats on a bed of spongy bread.  Everyone tears off some bread and uses it to spoon up the waadi, ayibe, and kocho.  Perfect for pre-"sharing" intimacy.

Drake and Zack arrived a few minutes late, Drake in a white t-shirt and a leather vest, and Zack in a yellow button-down shirt and a leather jacket.

He was a kid!  A Cute Young Thing!  A few years ago Fred scandalized West Hollywood by dating Matt, eight year younger.  This kid must be at least 20 years younger than Drake!

We tried not to stare as Zack shook our hands and sat down between us.

Soon we warmed up.  Zack was a freshman at Berkeley, only 19 years old.  But he was relaxed,  articulate, well versed in gay culture, and completely at ease with guys 20, and 30 years older.

Of course, we shared later.  No tattoos, no nipple rings, no piercing, a single earring.  Smooth, pale, flawless skin, a big chest, prominent nipples, xylophone abs, an uncut Mortadella.  I went down on him while Lane was going down on Drake, and then we kissed while Drake was going down on Zack.  We ended the evening by tying Drake and Lane together on the bed for a bondage scene.

Later I called Drake.  "That's why you didn't want us to meet him?  Because he was younger?"

"Well, you have to admit, he's not the usual type you see hanging around the Eagle."

"I didn't know you were into younger guys."

"It's the darndest thing," Drake said.  "I didn't used to be, but for the last few years, there are twinks everywhere I go. They're smiling at me, cruising me --  It's like I'm a twink magnet."

"Sounds annoying," I said.  "Who needs a lot of skinny, giggling schoolboys in your bed?"

"It has its benefits.  They're awfully enthusiastic, and their energy -- they just keep going and going!"

 "Still, I hope I never become a twink magnet."

See also: The Leatherman who never left South of Market.; Zack Hooks Up with the Prince of Sweden; Handsome or Hung?

Brandon DeWilde in Paul Newman's Bed

Born in Brooklyn, New York in April 1942, Brandon DeWilde was performing on Broadway at age 7.  At age 11, he was nominated for an Academy Award for Shane (1953).  That fall he got his own tv series, Jamie (1953-1954).

He was a big star.  And already sexually active. 

He always said that he was born horny.  As a teenager he rarely went more than a day without going down on a man or letting a man or woman go down on him.  Usually two or three.  He and a buddy often teamed up to work on a third guy or girl, then do each other.

How did he find all those willing partners, at a jailbait age, in the police-state 1950s, when sodomy and fornication would get you a prison sentence?  It helped that he had a stunning face and an enormous penis that kept getting bigger and bigger every year.  And that he looked...well, innocent.  Everybody thought they were his first.

Right, his first today.

Brandon wasn't sure whether he liked sex with men or women better -- why choose, they were both great!  But for sheer physical attraction, that jolt that hits you in the pit of your stomach, it was always men. 

Especially older, sophisticated, powerful men, the kind who would take you out and show you a good time before tearing your clothes off and throwing your legs in the air.

And maybe help your career.   Brandon's first real boyfriend was novelist James Leo Herlihy, who got him cast in the film versions of Blue Denim (1959) and All Fall Down (1962).

Not that they were monogamous -- no matter how many times they had sex the night before, Brandon still found himself getting aroused at the sight of muscular stage hands and pretty-in-pink script girls -- and he got a lot of invitations.  How could he refuse? 

In 1962, shortly after he and James broke up, Brandon landed a dream role --  Lonnie in Hud, an adaption of Larry McMurtrey's 1961 Western novel Horsemen Pass By, about a gay teenager who falls in love with his no-good uncle.

Ok, he wasn't explicitly gay, in the script, but that's how Brandon intended to play him!

Especially when he discovered that Hud was to be played by 37-year old Paul Newman, star of gay-subtext movies like The Long Hot Summer and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.   A major sex symbol, arguably the most beautiful man in the world.  How could Lonnie not be in love with him?

How could Brandon not be in love with him?

"Dream on," James said, still smarting a little from the breakup.  "Paul Newman can have any guy he wants, and he likes them big and built, like Brando, Yul Brynner, and Rocky Graziano -- why would he pick a skinny 20-year old kid?  Besides, you're both bottoms.  What are you going to do, exchange recipes?"

"I can screw with the best of them, Daddy-O!" Brandon exclaimed.  "And I can seduce with the best of them."

On May 21, 1962, location filming began in the town of Claude on the Texas Panhandle.  Cast and crew stayed at several hotels in Amarillo.  Brandon seduced the desk clerk at Paul's hotel into letting him into his room.  Paul came in later to find Brandon on the bed naked.

"I've been waiting all afternoon to suck the cock of Paul Newman," he announced.

Paul was hesitant at first -- he wasn't into skinny kids, even those with angelic faces and enormous penises -- but Brandon was very persistent.  Soon they were having sex every night, with each other and with whatever men or women they invited along -- both of them got a lot of offers! 

Brandon was mostly a bottom with men, but one night he topped a guy who was going down on Paul at the same time.  Then he switched positions -- what a kick!  He never topped Paul, though -- Paul had a smaller cock, but he was older, and a bigger star, therefore always dominant.

When the Texas shooting ended and they returned to Los Angeles, Paul said, "Look, it's been swell, but I'm a one-man man.  If we're going to do this, you're going to have to be faithful.  No other guys...or chicks either, unless you're married to them."

Brandon was completely captivated.  Paul's fame, his money, his connections that could push a career -- none of it mattered.  Even the sex wasn't important.  He wanted to be with Paul, share his bed, share his life, no matter what.

So he tried monogamy.  He cut back on the hookups.  He got married, to take some of the pressure off.  But he and Paul had different commitments, and just couldn't see each other often.  They had to make do with an occasional weekend fling.

What was Brandon supposed to do on the other days?  Sex with his wife Susan, of course.  But he got aroused so easily, and he had so many offers -- it was simply impossible to turn them all down. 

Brandon tried visiting Paul on the set for an occasional dressing-room blow job, but Paul didn't like that -- too dangerous.  If anyone found out about them, both their careers would be over.

Still, Brandon longed for some public recognition of their relationship, if only in code.

In 1968, Paul signed on as Butch in the intensely homoerotic buddy-Western Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.  Brandon thought that he should play Sundance -- a perfect way to display their commitment! 

Besides, his career was in the dumps -- he had barely worked in three years.  What good was having a superstar boyfriend, if he refused to use his influence to get you jobs?

Paul argued that it would look suspicious for him to promote Brandon for the role. The producers wanted Steve McQueen.

"Your new boyfriend?" Brandon sniped.  "What, does he suck your cock better than me?  Or does he have a tighter ass?  Here I've been trying my damnedest to stay faithful, and you're shacking up with every Tom, Dick, and Harry!"

The argument escalated, and became public -- they were nearly outed on the spot.  Paul angrily broke up with Brandon. 

Worried about being caught in the middle of a gay love triangle, McQueen backed out of the role, and Robert Redford took over.

Devastated by the breakup, Brandon divorced Susan -- they were mostly together for Paul's sake, anyway -- and distanced himself from Hollywood, returning to his old love, theater.  In March 1972 he remarried.  In July 1972, while starring in Butterflies are Free, he was driving through Lakewood, a suburb of Denver, when he swerved to avoid a drunk driver and was killed.

Paul Newman had a legendary career, in such memorable movies as The Sting (1973), Fort Apache, the Bronx (1981), and The Color of Money (1986).  Never openly bisexual -- his 2010 biography just mentions Brandon as his costar in Hud -- he was married to Joanne Woodward for 50 years, and had three children.  He was a strong supporter of gay rights. 

Most of this story comes from Randall the Muscle Bear, who never met Brandon, but knew some men who tricked with him in the 1960s.  I took some details from Darwin Porter's 2009 biography of Paul Newman, but I found it to be generally unreliable.

See also: Paul Newman and Rocky Graziano