Page 128 - Some Dance to Remember

98 Jack Fritscher

“Give me your tired, your poor, your wrinkled,” Solly said.
“The greatest treason,” Ryan said, “is to do the right thing for the
wrong reason.”
“What’s that mean?” Solly said.
“Ask T. S. Eliot,” I said.
“Some have come to Mecca for the wrong reasons,” Ryan said.
“Give me a wrong reason.” I was making mental notes.
“A professor at Loyola told me that a priest had to be more than a
priest to get invited into his house.”
“Can’t say that I blame him,” Solly said.
“I mean a man has to be more than a homosexual to justify his
existence.”
Solly smirked. “This sounds like Kick talking.”
“I want to know,” Ryan said. “Who are all these immigrants and
sexual refugees and what are they besides homosexual?”
“They’re meat.” Solly was direct. “Like you and me. And Kick. Meat.
That’s what. That’s what they are. Meat.”
“So why are they all here?” I asked.
“Many are called,” Ryan said, “but few are chosen.”
“Are you chosen?” Solomon Bluestein pointed his finger directly at
Ryan.
“Kick chose me,” he said. “That makes me one kind of chosen.”
“Personally, I’ve never been chosen,” Solly said. “Never. Not even for
a pickup game when I was a kid. Those boys on the playground ignored
me. Except when they beat me up. That’s why I came here. Now I do the
choosing. I take my money and I hit the Tenderloin and I point at a hustler
and he comes home and does what I choose him to do. That’s why we all
came here. To choose what we want to get and what we need.”
Cliff’s Variety and the Star Pharmacy at 18th and Castro understood.
The sexual refugees wanted everything. They wanted more. They wanted
it now. Cliff’s and the Star gave good Attitude. Money was money and
discretionary gay cash was fine U.S. tender. Both businesses catered to
the new neighborhood and survived. The pharmacy across 18th street
didn’t, and died, and became the upscale Elephant Walk bar. One straight
storefront after another fell before the trendy onslaught of gay money.
Bored with renting, the new immigrants started a real estate boom.
The tired Victorian flats surrounding Castro changed from straight hands
to gay and then changed looks. The gay restoration was in full swing with
hammers and paint brushes. Off with the asbestos siding! On with the
colorful post-hippie paint jobs! In with the track lights! In with the plants

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