Things to know up front:

You can enlarge the photos by clicking on them. Click the back arrow key to return to the post.

Every chapter in My Life Story includes information about me, my work, my family and my friends. It also includes information about events that took place locally and nationally, etc. that I thought important enough to include. You’ll also find that I’ve included films, musicians and recordings/videos, in addition to books that were released in a given year.

While I have included many personal photos, most of the graphic content included below is borrowed from the Internet. I do not claim to own this material. I am just adding it for educational purposes. If the owners of any of the content in the “My Life Story” series want their stuff removed, I am happy to oblige. My email address is jrdiaz@arizona.edu. Thanks!

As soon as I turned 19, I was given a promotion at Fry’s. I went from carryout to cashier/stocker, and the pay was much better. These were my work tools. I can’t tell you how many boxes I opened and cans I priced while working for this company or how many groceries I checked out. I was pretty fast too! I lasted 10 years with the company, and got vested, so now I receive a small pension check every month. Thanks to the United Food and Commercial Workers Union!

This was the text for my class titled “Normal Personality”. It was really a course on transactional analysis, a humanistic form of psychology that was in some ways a takeoff on Freudian psychology. Instead of the id, the ego and the superego, T.A. talked about the “parent, the adult and the child” being the driving forces in people’s psyches. The teacher was good, but not pro-gay, unfortunately. Still, I loved the class.

I was living in the dorm at this time, and was so depressed, I seriously thought about ending my life. Pushed to the edge, I finally decided that I wanted to live, and that I was going to at least explore what being gay meant. What I really wanted was to find a friend, someone I could get to know and have a relationship with. I also wanted to have fun. I knew that Jeckyll’s was a gay bar, but I had never been in one before. It was located at the intersection of Drachman and Oracle Rd., and I drove around it several times, but then went back home. I drove back and forth again a couple of times before I finally decided to enter the place. I had no idea what to expect. On this particular night, the bar was showing a movie. I got myself a beer, and I met a nice looking guy who was sitting at the bar having a drink. We started talking and we hit it off. His name was Bill and he was visiting from Yuma. We then went to sit down to watch the movie, and soon began to make out in front of a lot of other people. I really didn’t care at that point. I was completely swept away by the guy and the desire I felt. We later went to his hotel room at the MacArthur Hotel, a real dump of a place, and messed around. It had been the first time I’d ever done anything sexual since I was 15. I absolutely loved it. Later at work, someone, a “straight” guy who was in the audience at the movie with his girlfriend that night saw me making out with the guy I was with, and I found out a while later that he told everyone at Fry’s that I was queer. Wow, what luck, and on my first night out! That really messed me up. I even had a falling out with my best friend for a while because he continued being friends with the guy who outed me. I felt betrayed, and it took a long time to let the grudge I had developed go. Being outed didn’t stop me, however, from continuing to go out and meeting other people. I felt liberated and free, and felt like I was finally starting to really live.

Shortly after I decided to start going out, I visited Jane, my teacher and friend from Salpointe, and I came out to her as bisexual. I guess I wasn’t quite yet ready to admit that I was gay. It took several years to embrace that fully. I wrote the following in my journal. The guy Bill was my psychology teacher at the time.

Although I would not always remain so positive and upbeat, during the first month of my life as a gay man I was incredibly happy. I celebrated my new freedom in the following journal entry.

While I was in the Fisherman’s Wharf area, I decided to eat a sandwich and buy some sourdough bread for my aunt and uncle. As I was eating my lunch, two nice looking, well dressed guys in their twenties came up to me and struck up a conversation. They asked if I was by myself and if I had a place to stay. I told them I was just visiting from out of town and enjoying the sites. We engaged in small talk for a few minutes, and then suddenly, they invited me to have dinner with them, and they gave me a postcard with a sketch of their house on it that included the address. I wondered if they were gay, and I took the postcard but didn’t commit to anything. When I went back to my aunt’s house, I mentioned to my cousin that I had met these guys and that they were very nice and had invited me to dinner. She shook her head at me and suggested that I not go, because “there were all kinds of kooks in the city”. I ended up not going, and boy, I’m sure glad I didn’t. A month or so later, I was flipping through People magazine and I noticed a copy of the postcard these guys had given me. It was included in an article some guy had written about his undercover experience with a cult called the Moonies. Then it dawned on me. Those guys were trying to recruit me to become a Moonie! Man, that sure was a close call. Since I’ve been putting my life story in pictures together, I thought about that postcard and wished that I had kept it. After searching for it on the internet without any luck, I finally found a citation to the article, and was able to buy a copy of People Magazine that included the photo of the postcard. Here it is, the infamous Moonie House.

By this point, I had met several guys, and after while I figured out that just because you sleep with someone and fall for them, it doesn’t mean they love you in return. I realized that there was more to life than just sex. I wanted someone I could relate to, someone I could spend time with and connect with. I had also met a couple of women and had sex with them too by this point. One minute I was happy being gay, the next I was forcing myself to try going in the other direction. This pattern would continue up through my mid-20s. Deep down, I never “wanted” to be gay and while I accepted it to a degree, I continued to fight it, again and again. It was just crazy. Being gay in 1978 was not what being gay is like today. It was a huge deal, and very controversial. I couldn’t be completely “out”. No way. I hid my sexuality from my family and my friends, with very few exceptions. I was living a secret life, and it got me down a lot of the time.

I really did want to be less closeted, and even joined a new gay group on campus, but the fear of being outed, beaten up or even killed was all too real for many of the students. At one point, I expressed the opinion that we should be more visible, and a fellow student stated, “what, you want us to go out there and hold hands in public or something? Are you crazy?” One of the activities this group sponsored was movie viewings. We all sat in the living room of someone’s house one night and saw the documentary, “Word Is Out”. It was very inspiring, but it didn’t change things for us locally. Just two years earlier, a guy named Richard Heakin, was visiting from the Midwest and was murdered by some teenage guys outside the Stonewall bar on N. 1st, a gay bar that later became one of my watering holes, The Joshua Tree/Back Pocket. The memory of that murder was likely still on a lot of people’s minds. Heakin’s murderers were let off easily, but the City of Tucson soon thereafter passed the first civil rights, anti-discrimination ordinance in the country, which provided a number of protections for members of the local gay community.

My sister Becky came home for Christmas, and it was  joyous occasion. We had a number of family get-togethers. The photos included here bring back wonderful memories of her visit with us.  She promised that she’d soon come back home permanently, but it took another two years before that happened.

Wow, what a year! I managed to complete another year of school while working part time. My wages this year ($7,000+) increased significantly when I started cashiering and stocking. I came out to myself in March, became sexually active, starting dating men (and a few women), and going out a lot; I went to San Francisco, saw Bob Dylan for the very first time and saw Joan Baez again, fell in and out of love a few times, and lived on my own in my own space for half the year. As the new year approached, my hope was to find a steady boyfriend (or girlfriend) and to take a little break from school. I was beginning to sour on psychology as a future profession, and needed to think about what I really wanted to study, so I decided to just work as much as possible at the grocery store the following semester and take some time to think about the direction I wanted my education to take.

Things to know up front:

You can enlarge the photos by clicking on them. Click the back arrow key to return to the post.

Every chapter in My Life Story includes information about me, my work, my family and my friends. It also includes information about events that took place locally and nationally, etc. that I thought important enough to include. You’ll also find that I’ve included films, musicians and recordings/videos, in addition to books that were released in a given year.

While I have included many personal photos, most of the graphic content included below is borrowed from the Internet. I do not claim to own this material. I am just adding it for educational purposes. If the owners of any of the content in the “My Life Story” series want their stuff removed, I am happy to oblige. My email address is jrdiaz@arizona.edu. Thanks!

All in all, 1977 was a milestone year. I completed my first year of college while working all the while (earning $2,348 for the year), I went to New York by myself, I learned how to drive, opened my own bank account, and I moved out of my parents’ house.

Included in this post are events that meant something to me. By this point in my life, I considered myself a bit of a bohemian with a politcally radical bent, and began to shy away from a lof of stuff that was super popular in American culture. I acknowledge that there were several other key events that occurred this particular year that aren’t included here, but they didn’t really impact me nor was I interested in them. I wasn’t interested in seeing Star Wars, for example, nor did I care much for Saturday Night Fever or Donna Summer, even though I loved to dance. Also, Elvis died this year, but I was never a big fan. My sister had told me that he once said that he didn’t like Mexicans, that he’d rather date a dog before he dated a Mexican girl. That was enough to keep me away. As far as I was concerned, he was a second rate singer who ripped off the music of the Black community and made tons of money in the process.

The first important decision I ever made in my life was to attend Salpointe. Choosing to leave Salpointe early to attend the University of Arizona was the second most important decision. I was 17 when I started at the U of A. I lived at home, and had a job at Fry’s Food Stores as a carry out clerk. My friends Richard, Sylvia, Rose and Terri were still all away at college. It didn’t matter, however. I was going to college too!

My classes started on January 13, two days before my 18^th birthday. I had initially signed up for five classes. They included Freshman English, The Chicano in American Society (Sociology 71), An Introduction to Anthropology, An Introduction to Logic and Mexican American Literature. 15 units was a lot to handle, especially given that I worked half time at the grocery store, so I quickly decided to drop the Mexican American literature class because it would be taught all in Spanish, and I had a feeling I would struggle with it, even though I had just taken the Spanish proficiency exam and had passed it with flying colors. My friend Richard’s sister Ana was in my sociology class, which made things easier, as I didn’t really have many friends around when I started at the UofA. I really liked my Freshman English teacher, Sally Perper, who was a former journalist. I wrote an essay on the Rolling Thunder Revue tour that brought Bob Dylan and Joan Baez together again and I got an “A” on it. I did pretty well overall in all of my English and literature courses. I could’ve been an English major.

I had also found a job at the University of Arizona Library at the beginning of the semester. A woman named Jeannette Bahr, who had worked at Salpointe the previous Fall semester, helped me get the position. Her husband, Steve Bahr, managed the Library’s Media Center, and my job was to staff the front service counter, to re-shelve materials and to clean filmstrips and records. I didn’t last very long, because I really didn’t like it, and because the staff that worked there weren’t very nice to me, so by March I had quit. Working at Fry’s was sufficient, and taking all those classes kept me quite busy.

The full album is available on Youtube. You can listen to it here too:

I began to buy lots of music recordings once I started my job at Fry’s the previous year. I had a great time exploring all the used and new record stores and spent a lot of money on albums. I loved the folk singers from the 60s especially, and a variety of contemporary male and female pop vocalists. I wasn’t crazy about hard rock, funk or disco, which became all the rage when I was in college. Around this time, I bought albums by Joni Mitchell, Judy Collins, Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, Linda Ronstadt, James Taylor, Rita Coolidge, and Janis Ian. When Janis Ian came to town, I went to her concert. I particularly liked the opening act, Tom Chapin, brother of Harry Chapin, but both performers were amazing. I also attended a Russian balalaika concert with my friend Ana around this time.

In late March, my brother Fred got married. I was a member of the wedding party, and my sister Becky came home from New Jersey for the occasion. My mom was feeling a lot better by 1977, and she participated as well. Many relatives from out of town also showed up, and we had a wonderful time. The wedding was held at St. Ambrose Church, and the reception took place at the Fireman’s Union Hall. There was food galore and a live band. The after party took place at my brother Carlos’s house and it lasted until the wee hours of the morning. I should’ve had my hair cut for the occasion, but never got around to it. The best part of the whole thing was having my sister Becky home. I told her I wanted to go visit her once the school semester ended. It was a promise I was to keep. May was just around the corner.

Working and going to school kept me quite busy. At home, I finally had my own bedroom and desk so that I could study. Life was never peaceful at home as people were always coming and going, but I managed. My grades were okay. The semester flew right by and I ended up with a solid “B” average.

On Thursday, May 12, at around 8:30pm, I was reading a novel titled Saint Francis, by Nikos Kazantzakis at Winchell’s Donut shop on 22nd street. I was the only customer in the store, and suddenly a guy appeared with a gun, and he robbed the place. I knew something was up, and dared not make a move. I sat perfectly still with this book in my hands pretending to read it. When the guy had left and the cops arrived the clerk informed them that the robber had his gun pointed at me. I had no idea because I was seated facing the back wall.

Once school was over, I decided it was time to keep my promise and go see my sister in New Jersey. Greyhound Bus Lines was advertising $100 round-trip tickets to anywhere in the USA, so I decided that is how I would get to the New York area. Becky lived in a small town called Cranford, New Jersey, just outside of Newark, which was just 20 minutes away from New York City. It would take me two and a half days to get there and two and a half days to return. The route on the way there took me through the South, all the way through Texas to Arkansas, Tennessee,  Virginia, Delaware, Pennsylvania and finally New Jersey. The route home cut through the middle of Pennsyvania to Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, to Tucson. While my parents didn’t like that I’d be traveling alone, I was up to the challenge and felt completely fearless. Now that I think back on it, a lot of stuff could’ve gone wrong, but I made it there and back with no problems at all.

The things that stick out for me on the trip to New York included a stop in a town called Van Horn, Texas, where the jukebox included a couple of songs by Emmylou Harris. I was just thrilled to be able to play her music on a jukebox in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. The songs I played were from her recent album, Luxury Liner. I think I played two songs, but can’t remember both, although I know for sure that the title of one of them was “You’re Supposed to Be Feeling Good”. I also remember how long it took to get through Texas and how boring most of it was. A couple of passengers who sat next to me at various points turned out to be born again Christians and they both tried to “save” me, but I was a good Catholic kid, and wouldn’t buy what they had to offer. Once we finally got to the eastern side of the state, things began to change, and there were rolling hills and short, stumpy trees everywhere. Arkansas was pretty lush too, but by then it had started to get dark and I couldn’t see much by that point. As we headed into Memphis and then Nashville the following morning, I became awestruck at how beautiful and green everything was. I’d never seen such beautiful countryside in all my life, especially in Tennessee. The mist just hung in the air, all the way to the ground, and there were miles and miles of lush, green hills and trees all around. When we got to Nashville, I ordered breakfast at the Greyhound station restaurant, and it was the first time I’d ever tasted grits. I had no idea what to expect, and I must admit, I disliked them immediately. They probably would’ve tasted much better with some butter and salt, but I had no idea what to do with them. Yuck. I still don’t like them.

The trip from Tennessee through Virginia was quite scenic. We arrived in Washginton DC late at night, and it was one of the only times I felt scared and out of place. I was in need of a bath, and felt itchy and uncomfortable. I was also carrying too much stuff, including a styrofoam ice chest that my parents had packed full of food for me. The food was all gone by the time I got to DC, so I ditched the ice chest and felt much better. The rest of the trip was okay. I remember that Delaware was just beautiful with lots of farms and lush green countryside everywhere.

When I got to Newark, I was expecting my sister’s husband to be there waiting for me, but he was nowhere to be found. I waited for what seemed an eternity, and it was the second time I felt frightened. What else could I do but wait?  It was pretty creepy, but Paco, my sister’s husband, eventually showed up, and all was well. We drove straight to Cranford, and there was my sister Becky waiting for me.

My sister and her husband pulled out all the stops for me and for a whole week, took me all over the place. We went to New York City at least twice  and had Chinese food in Chinatown, and Italian food in Little Italy. We went up to the top of the Empire State Building, to Times Square  and St. Patrick’s Cathedral. I even got them to take me to Greenwich Village to find Gerde’s Folk City, the club where Bob Dylan first played in the early 1960s and where he met Joan Baez. That was a real thrill. They also took me for a long drive down the Jersey shore to Asbury Park, and then to Menlo Park, the home of Thomas Alva Edison. We also ate at the best restaurant I’ve ever been to, a seafood place called Long John’s, Ltd. It was incredible. I’ll never forget that meal.

The trip home was not as exciting as the trip to New York. Pennsylvania is a beautiful state, but I have to admit that Ohio, Indiana and Illinois were almost as boring as Texas. There were nothing but cornfields everywhere, it seemed, and it took forever to get through it all. But, all in all, I had a wonderful time. I’ll never forget that trip. I’ve been to New York only one other time since then, and would love to go back again for another visit. There’s still so much I want to see!

During the summer, I attended my very first Joan Baez concert. She had just released a new album titled “Blowin’ Away”. It was different from most of her other albums in that many of the songs were played to the accompaniment of a rock band. I went to the show with my dear friend Rose, and we had a great time. I was totally in love with Joan Baez, and would remain an ardent fan for life. This was the first of many of her concerts that I would attend.

 I also took a class during the summer, my first psychology course. I wanted to major in psychology, and I did well in the class, but my enthusiasm for the subject would eventually fade and my grades in the next couple of psychology courses would drop. My buddy Richard was home from college, and I helped get him a job at Fry’s. He ended up not going back to Colorado, but enrolling at the U of A. It was good to have him back home. While we weren’t as close as we were in high school, we remained the best of friends over the years. 

I was very “religious” 18 year old during this point in my life, and I was still battling my attraction to men. I thought if I prayed hard enough and was a good person, it would all go away, and I’d find me a nice girl to marry. Ha! That didn’t happen. What I did end up doing was falling for another guy. This time, he was an older man in his late 30’s, married with children my age and younger, who worked at the grocery store. His name was Jim. He was the sweetest person one could ever meet, and was very kind and generous to me. He was from Missouri and had been in the Air Force. He even liked Joan Baez. I became so “attached” to him that I joined his church for a while. He was Southern Baptist. It was an eye opening experience. The Baptists are, in general, a pretty conservative bunch of people. The minister of the church we attended drove a gold Cadillac and was not much interested in the teachings of Jesus. He was more attuned to the writings of St. Paul and the notion of salvation from sin through grace and baptism, and in making sure his congregants all donated to the church regularly. It’s called “tithing” and you weren’t a good Christian unless you gave at least 10% of your earnings to the church. The members of the congregation were all Anglos who lived on Tucson’s far east side, and some were outwardly racist. I clearly didn’t fit in, and eventually stopped attending services with Jim and his wife. Jim ended up leaving Fry’s, and we drifted apart after a while, but I sure fell hard for him. He surely must’ve known I was attracted to him, but he never let on. He treated me like a son.

Just before the Fall semester started, I moved out of my parents’ house into an apartment in a complex near the University. Another friend of mine from Fry’s told me that his wife, who managed the apartments, was looking for someone to help do maintenance there. The deal was I’d get free rent if I helped clean vacated units. I lasted two whole weeks. I liked living there, but I hated the work. Some of those apartments were downright disgusting and filthy. It was nasty work so I quit and moved back home. I still had my job at Fry’s,  and that was enough for me.

I was still determined to move out of my parents’ house, so sometime during the Fall semester, I moved in with my brother Charles and his family. They lived on Calle Aragon, on the south side of town, near my Aunt Mary’s old house in the Elvira neighborhood. I opened a bank account and was driving by this time, using my dad’s old beat up pickup truck. Going to school and then to work and back to Charles’s, whose house was far away from both, took its toll on me, but I stayed there with him and his family until the end of the semester.

During this period, I continued to buy records. Linda Ronstadt and Jackson Browne came out with new albums, as did Dolly Parton. I loved her album. It was called “Here You Come Again”. I also continued reading a lot. One book in particular, titled “Your Erroneous Zones,” had a huge impact on me. It was a self-help book essentially, written by a man named Wayne Dyer, and in it he discussed the futility of things like worry, guilt, and living to please others, and he emphasized the importance of living in the present moment. It was an eye-opener and it helped me begin the process of self-acceptance. I often credit it for saving my life.

The following event happened just five months before I decided to come out of the closet.

According to BusinessInsider.com, “In 1977, singer Anita Bryant led a campaign, called “Save Our Children,” to overturn an anti-discrimination ordinance in Dade County, Florida. Bryant was the spokesperson for the Florida Citrus Commission, and gay activists and celebrity allies called for a boycott of Florida orange juice. At a press conference on October 14, 1977, Bryant was hit in the face with a banana cream pie by an activist posing as a reporter. She led numerous successful efforts to repeal gay-rights ordinances in cities across America but failed with the Briggs Initiative, which would have banned gay teachers in California public schools”.

Less than a month after Anita Bryant was hit on the face with a pie, on November 8, 1977, Harvey Milk became the first openly gay politician to be elected to public office in California. He helped lead the effort to defeat the Briggs Initiative and then won a seat on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. He was sworn into office in early January, 1978.

My brother Fred and his wife Ruth had a baby they named Edessa in September. She would be the first in a new crop of family members that would include my niece Estrella and my nephew Anthony, who were born the following year.

The Fall school semester was a rough one for me. I had two psychology classes and didn’t do very well in them. I got C’s in both. One of the classes was on statistics, and I got really lost. I was usually pretty good in math, but I felt like the instructor was a lousy teacher. I didn’t do so bad in my other classes, however, and  got an A in my English class and an A in general biology.  I also got a B in volleyball, which even though I didn’t ace, I enjoyed a lot.

At the end of the year, I decided to apply to live in a dorm room at the University the following semester. I also bought my very first car, a homely looking 1964 Buick Special. It had seen better days, and was not very reliable, but it was all mine, and I drove if for 3 years, until 1982.

1978 would prove to be even more significant as I turned 19, moved into my own apartment, and slowly but surely started accepting the fact that I was gay.