ju s t o u t ▼ July 7, 1 9 0 5 ▼ 19 G ay M en’s C h o ru s Continued from page 17 ti/tV M iri'S chi * sii to be special,” he says. Two months later at MCC the group held its first concert. “I still have u e original poster from that concert. We asked for $ 1.50 dona­ tion,” Coleman says. “After expenses, we had $39.” Brown, who is a former arts editor for the Kansas City Star and currently a Portland Art Museum trustee, found him­ self drawn to the chorus. “I guess you can say that I’m a vet­ eran of the bad old days, when you didn’t say words like ‘gay,’ so I was quite intrigued when I read an announce­ ment about an upcoming [PGMC] per­ formance,” he says. “It wasn’t a pol­ ished performance, but they had enthu­ siasm. There was an obvious commit­ ment there. I saw the chorus and its music as a very civilized way to reach out to people.” In 1981 Brown joined PGMC, much to the chagrin of certain members of his social set. “I remember being at dinner parties where some people would make disparaging rem arks about the chorus,” he says. “I lost friends because of that association.” Brown would eventually become the chorus’ secretary, music committee chair and gen­ eral manager. He would also write its first grant application to the Metropolitan Arts Commis­ sion. The reasons other gay men were attracted to the chorus are numerous: they were looking for friends to socialize with; they saw music as a revolutionary tool; they were seeking romantic partners; they liked to sing. “Getting involved with the chorus was an ac­ ceptable way for men to come out. They could say, ‘I’m a member of the Portland Gay Men’s Chorus,’ which was less threatening to people. And it was an alternative to the bar scene,” says Coleman, who is a community-resource specialist for Portland Com­ munity College. “There are so many options for men now, but back in 1980 we were just one of the few games in town.” That’s not to say that some Portland Gay Men’s Chorus enthusiasts didn’t spend some time in the bars—recruiting potential chorus members, that is. “PGMC had a musical subgroup of about 16 men known as the Other Side. They developed choral material with sexual-based themes to be performed in gay bars,” says Fulmer. “It was material the entire chorus could not publicly per­ form—songs like ‘Fire Island Baby’ and ‘Crisco and You.’ It was musical theater. A bit of the Village People. But that’s what the men in the bars got a kick out of, and it was a way to get them involved.” Not long after its first concert PGMC drafted its bylaws, which required that the chorus be a demo­ cratic organization. “We liked to say we were using the ‘lesbian consensus model,’ chuckles Coleman. “It really added spark to the way we operated.” As for the chorus’ early audiences, it was a mixture of both gay and straight. “During our early days, P-FLAG would come to our concerts as a group. It was a way parents could help other parents deal with their kids’ sexual orientation. It was important for them to see we were simply normal-looking guys,” says Norton. Norton estimates the annual budget during those first years hovered between $2,000 and $3,000— it would surpass $100,000 during the late 1980s. M ID O R I I h m h ILiO ltëUft MARNI NUODNI M AKNii^ixçiM f ö R i t ANC G *ieA ce+ tcio- B y the mid-to-late 1980s, chorus membership dramatically multiplied, topping out at about 110. And performances were continually improving, due in part to the guidance of David York, who served as PGMC’s conductor from 1982 to 1990. The chorus began receiving favorable reviews from the mainstream press, and in 1984 it was invited to perform during the inauguration of the incoming secretary of state, Barbara Roberts. Port­ land Mayor Bud Clark declared June 28, 1985 “Portland Gay Men’s Chorus Day,” which also marked PGMC’s first concert at Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall. The chorus subsequently received a series of grants from the Metropolitan Arts Commission and the Oregon Arts Commission—many believe it was the first openly gay arts group in the state to receive public funding. According to Norton, the chorus was also the first gay organization to per­ form in Eugene’s Hull Center. When the Oregon Convention Center opened in 1990, the chorus was there singing. In 1991, the chorus marched and sang in Portland’s Holiday Parade, which attracted an estimated 50,000 spec­ tators in addition to the thousands of others who watched it on television. In 1994, when Kris Olson Rogers made Oregon history by becoming the state’s first female U.S. attorney, her swearing-in ceremony included a song from the Grateful Dead performed by a Portland Gay Men’s Chorus mem­ ber. And yes, says Coleman, the Portland Gay Men’s Chorus has indeed been tapped to perform the national anthem at a Blazer game. “We tried out last year and were accepted,” he says. “However we’re not exactly sure when we’re going to ap­ pear.” According to Norton, during PGMC’s first year, half the members of the chorus listed their names in the program as “anonymous.” Now, only one member refrains from listing his name in full. The chorus’ most notable performances in­ clude 1988’s Young Caesar, the world premiere of a gay opera by Lou Harrison; Zillions, or How We Paid O ff the National Debt by Tom Simonds in 1985, which was the first musical commissioned and produced by a gay chorus; 1989’s In the Presence o f Things Past, a ballet choreographed by Dennis Spaight and danced by Ballet Oregon to Schubert songs sung by the chorus; and 1992’s performance of John Corigliano’s O f Rage and Remembrance, a haunting work for chorus and soloists written as a response to the devastation caused by AIDS. And then, of course, there were those countless vigils and memorial services... relationship at the time, 1 think 1 might be dead by now.” Though some may disagree with Fulmer’s bold contention, there is no argument that AIDS has had a shattering effect on the chorus. An estimated 60 PGMC members have died of AIDS complications—more members than the chorus currently has. According to Coleman, the membership of the chorus dropped from 85 in 1990 to 35 in 1993, due largely to AIDS deaths. The chorus currently has about 55 members. "You can’t go to a rehearsal and see some­ one who isn’t dying,” says Fulmer. “But the level of love and caring is astounding. These men are literally holding each other up.” Literally and, says Norton, figuratively. "Those of us who have managed to survive have done so because the chorus gives us something to live for.” State health officials also recognize the power of the chorus to bolster gay men’s self­ esteem and provide them with a sense of be­ longing. The Oregon Health Division, in con­ junction with local health departments, re­ cently launched a program specifically de­ signed to create a pro-social support network for gay and bisexual men throughout Oregon. The theory behind the project is that if men have a sense of community they’ll feel good about themselves and will therefore be less likely to engage in risky behaviors. Health officials are working to conduct outreach efforts, which include providing funding for the chorus to tour the state. Coleman says the health division and the Washington County Health Department are also providing financial support for a CD featuring music performed by the chorus, as well as members discussing HIV/AIDS issues. The CD is in the final stages of production and may be released later this summer. Though the chorus has continued to perform Broadway show tunes and other lighter selections, the health crisis has understandably influenced its repertoire. There was 1992’s “Time for Remem­ brance” concert (70 voices strong), featuring Corigliano’s work, and this past spring the chorus performed Hidden Legacies, a seven-movement drama that tracked the various stages of grief: anger and shame, followed by numbness and then acceptance. The last movement, “Hallelujah Cho­ rus,” seeks to uplift listeners. Throughout the years the chorus has performed benefits for AIDS service organizations, raising thousands of badly needed dollars. Afe>ca 'I'l/osiJz ¿*t P*io