Laid Bare: Essays and Observations, Judson, Tom [best self help books to read .TXT] 📗

the towers of the World Trade Center silhouetted against the pink-and-orange sunset. What a perfect world, I thought to myself.

But that evening in June,1994 was only a brief respite from a world that was far from perfect. The AIDS crisis was in full swing and many of our friends—including several at our party—were beginning to show symptoms of the disease. The more effective drug cocktails were still more than a year away and the sense of fear was almost inescapable. But we managed to escape it that night as, dressed in our silly party clothes, we said goodbye and farewell to Henry Mancini.

As I rode the treadmill this morning I thought back to that summer evening with a warm nostalgia that only the passage of a dozen years has made possible. Almost half the guests at our party had died by the end of the decade and the memory of them waltzing to “Moon River” makes me smile. But as I watch Tim and Jeffrey arguing over which of them will lead I see them start to disappear even as they waltz, leaving too soon just as they arrived late. Steve Brown sitting in the big chair, obstinately refusing to dance, dematerializes as he rolls his eyes in my direction. Suddenly I find myself dancing alone as Bobby Magnuson evaporates from my arms. And when I look across the room at Bruce, laughing as he steps on Kyle’s toes yet again, he simply fades away along with the final bars of the song..

So many friends gone. But with Henry Mancini’s help they occasionally do unexpectedly reappear. Why, there they are now, just waitin’ ‘round the bend for Moon River and me.

“…SO THAT WE MAY BRING YOU…”

There was a time when entire families gathered in the soft glow of the cathode ray of a console television, hushing one another, as an announcer, in sober, stentorian tones, proclaimed, “Our regularly scheduled program will not be seen this evening so that we may bring you a Special Presentation in Living Color.”

Of course, that brief announcement sometimes spelled disaster: The Watergate Hearings were broadcast from May through July, 1973, uncomfortably overlapping summer vacation, a span of time I had allocated to uninterrupted T.V. viewing.

Suffice to say that the episodes of “The Match Game” that weren’t obliterated by summer sunspots were more often than not trammeled by Sam Ervin & Co. (I never watched the hearings unless John Dean was testifying—I found him strangely sexy and, even as a 12-year-old homo, I appreciated the steely resolve his wife exuded as she sat behind him in her tailored suits and bleached hair pulled tightly into a bun.)

But, fortunately, a preempted program usually brought something truly special in its place. “Peter Pan” and “The Wizard of Oz” come to mind. Our entire extended family would traipse to my grandmother’s, as she possessed the only color television set in the clan.

It seems that there were more preemptions during the holidays than at any other time of the year as the networks hauled out their variety shows and “spectaculars” as early Christmas gifts to the nation.

My family devoured them all. Halfway through “Christmas With Ray Conniff and the Singers” my mother announced she was convinced that they were just mouthing along to the album. All four of us kids stampeded out of the living room and returned with the portable record player. After making sure the needle was flipped from 78 to LP we discovered that Mom was right: our scratchy copy of “Christmas With Ray Conniff and the Singers” synched up perfectly with the voices on T.V.

Was this a good thing or not? Were the people on television sipping cocoa around a roaring fire displaying uncanny abilities or were we at home getting gypped? For that matter, were these photogenic men and women members of The Ray Conniff Singers at all? Mom had unwittingly opened a can of worms with her revelation and planted the seeds of skepticism in a young mind.

Which only meant she had an even harder time trying to explain why Katie from “My Three Sons” was on “The King Family Christmas Special.” Did Robbie Douglas know his wife was leading this parallel life, that she had all these blond relatives and that she sang? And, most of all, what about their triplets? From my own experience I knew that fathers had little, if anything, to do with raising a family, so, who was watching all those kids? Try as I might, I couldn’t imagine Beverly Garland changing a diaper. My anxiety kept me from being able to fully enjoy the show.

Most Holiday Spectaculars followed this basic variety show format, but, one night in 1964, a truly special Special premiered on NBC; “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer”, presented in something called “Animagic” was shown for the first time in what would become an uninterrupted 40-year run. Here was a holiday special for the whole family. Even little gay boys found something in it for them; something that only grew richer and more meaningful with the passing years. We understood exactly what Rudolph went through; who didn’t endure that kind of taunting from the other kids at school? But, it wasn’t Rudolph with whom budding queers most closely identified, for there among the elves—in a principal role—was one outright, glorious queen.

Consider this dialogue from the choir practice scene in original script:

FOREMAN

(furious)

That sounded terrible. What’s wrong with you guys? The tenor section was weak!!

AN ELF

Wasn’t our fault, boss. Hermey didn’t show up.

FOREMAN

WHAT!! Where is that little…

(Stops himself.)

I think we all know what the Foreman intended to say.

Hermey the Gay Dentist Elf was unapologetically fabulous. (And let’s get this straight; it’s Hermey, not Herbie.) He, alone, stood out from his oafish co-workers. In the scene above, when the Foreman was asking his whereabouts, Hermey had all the dolls in the workshop lined up working on