Search

NORWEGIAN HOMOPHOBIA 1 in 5 Norwegians thinks homosexual sex between men should be recriminalised, according to a poll recently taken by the Health Directorate in Oslo. According to the Oslo monthly, Fritt Fram, this figure is a sharp increase on the results of a similar poll taken in 1984, when no more than 2% of the Norwegian population thought recriminalisation was the proper course.The result of the poll will be discussed by the nationwide gay and lesbian organisation, DNF '48 when it meets shortly with the Health Directorate. Commenting on the figures DNF '48 Chairman Kjell Erik Oie, said the results had given him a shock but felt it was impossible to compare the figures with the '84 poll, a negative influence on answers". Oie was also of the opinion that the poll results indicate the tasks of the Norwegian lesbian and gay movement over the next few years, and stressed the need for human and financial resources in counteracting the trend.The DNF '48 Chairman was quick to point out the strong support of the Norwegian Health Authorities in the common fight against AIDS, and denied accusations that the Health Authorities should be held responsible for the shift in public opinion: "The situation would have been tenfold worse if not for the binding spirit between the Health Authorities and the gay movement".

UNBELIEVABLE BUT TRUE According to the 'British Medical Journal', the British general doctor shows little concern when it comes to AIDS. A study which was carried out in 3 different regions shows that very few are prepared to inform the public; 16% among them think that making homosexuality a criminal offence is an efficient way to check the epidemic. The general practitioners questioned are not even sure about the way the virus is being transmitted; some speak of tears, of saliva or insects as transmitters! Others are in favour of compulsory testing. According to a recent issue of "Gai Pied", Paris, 76% of the members of the French medical profession remain opposed to the compulsory tracking down of the HIV virus. Yet, according to a survey carried out among them by Sofres, AIDS takes only 4th place in their concern about health (after heart related illnesses, cancer and alcoholism). For the majority among them (79%), "priority should be given to development of means to prevent AIDS", while 48% held that it was "necessary to encourage medical research into AIDS".

VICTIMS OF VIOLENCE According to Der Spiegel more than 300 gays have been murdered in Brazil during the last three years. It would appear that many of these murders are not investigated by the police and investigation is often not requested by relatives of the victims. Brazilian society is in general hostile towards homosexuals: for example, the chief justice of the state of Pernambuco announced last year that homosexuals would not be accepted for official jobs within the judiciary. Victims of violence often fail to report events to the police as in cases involving homosexuals it is the practice to pass on to the press all details, including the name and photograph of the victim.

"17th August The first theatrical showing of MGM's The Wizard of Oz, 1940. Friends of Dorothy take note. German gay activist Kurt Hiller bom, 1885. 18th August London newspaper, Gay News, relaunced as the New Gay News, 1984. 21st August Decadent artist - Aubrey Beardsley (who died at the age of 24) bom in Brighton, England, 1872. 22nd August Composer Claude Debussy bom in St. Germain-en-Laye, France, 1862 . . . also bom this day, Rev. Carter Heyward, one of the ""Philadelphia Eleven"" first women priests of the Episcopal Church, famous for coming out in the pages of Christianity and Crisis, bom US, 1945. 24th August Today we remember Bathyllus, a stunning Greek youth who made such an impression on Polycrates, the tyrant of Samos, that a statue in his honour was erected in the Temple of Hera, Goddess of women. 26th August Christopher Ishwood, leading 20th Century author, creator of ""Sally Bowles"" and A Single Man, one of the most powerful novels about male homosexual life, bom in Cheshire, England, 1904. Also today . . .the National Gay Federation protested against Garda surveillance of public toilets in Dublin, also a month of countless ""queer-bashing"" incidents, 1984. 28th August The first Gay ""Olympic"" Games opened in the 65,000 seater Kezar Stadium at San Francisco. 1982...also, the International Gay Associa­tion was founded at Coventry, England, 1978. 31st August Roman Emperor Caligula, eventually murdered by his ""fuck buddy"", bom in Anzio, Italy, 12 A.D. 1st September Sir Roger Casement, whose detailed diaries (""Stanley Weeks, 20, stripped, huge one circumcized, swelled and hung 9 inches quite"") proved his undoing, bom in Kingstown (now Dun Laoghaire) Co. Dublin, 1864. 2nd September The Rev. John McNeill, Jesuit scholar (later silenced by the Church) who wrote The Church and the Homosexual, bom in 1925. Also today . . . Winifred Ellerman, better known as the novelist Bryher, who married as a matter of convenience gay writer Robert McAlmon but managed a long relationship with poet H.D. (Hilda Doolittle), bom in Kent, England, 1894. 3rd September The first issue of In Touch, journal of the National Gay Federation, published in Dublin, 1979. 5th September The homo-monument is unveiled in Amsterdam, just outside the Westerkerk, 1987. 6th September Don Donnelly presented the first-ever Irish radio programme by gay people for (primarily) gay people, RTE Radio 1, 1983. 7th September Fundamentalist forces win the day as a Constitutional amendment is passed upholding the equal right to life of die ""Unborn Child"", 1983."

"From 11th April, 1988 Maggie Thatcher has effectively abolished the welfare state and re-introduced the Poor Law. This has very serious implications for people, especially young people who are thinking of emigrating to Britain. After you sign on at a D.H.S.S. office you will now have to wait at least two weeks before you get any money. You will also have to produce two types of identification. Your birth cert alone will not do. If you are over 25 you will get £33.40 per week. This is called income support (it replaces supplementary benefit). However, if you are between 18 and 24 the amount will be reduced to £26.05 per week. If you are 16 or 17 years old the situation gets worse from September 1988 - you will not get any money unless you go on a youth training scheme. You may be waiting for several months before you qualify for a place on these training schemes. It is known that over the past few years some people who have been diagnosed as HIV positive and people with AIDS have emigrated to Britain to avail of the better welfare and other support services. Prior to April of this year such people could claim extra allowances for special diets, heating, clothing, laundry, travel costs etc. These allowances are no longer available and instead people diagnosed with AIDS will qualify for only a small disability premium of £13.05 per week in addition to their basic income support payment, if they have been classified as disabled for at least six months. As the health of many people with AIDS changes erratically they may be disqualified from even this low premium by occasionally being ""too well"" to qualify. Again, prior to April 1988 people setting up home could get once-off payments to cover deposits on flats and to buy essential household items such as cookers, beds, fridges, washing machines etc. However, these once-off payments have been scrapped and replaced by a system of loans. It is important to note that these loans will not be available to cover deposits on flats. Loans for other essential items will be at the discretion of the local D.H.S.S. office. You may get a loan only if: 1. You are prepared to have your income support (your basic weekly payment) reduced by 15% to repay the loan every week. 2. In the eyes of the D.H.S.S. you will be able to pay the loan back. 3. You have been receiving income support for at least six months. 4. There is enough money in the budget at your local D.H.S.S. office. 5. The local D.H.S.S. office thinks you deserve the money. What this means is that people with AIDS can be refused loans for several reasons: because they are not considered a good credit risk due to their reduced life expectancy: because they have been on income support for only a short period: because there is money in the kitty, or because the D.H.S.S. officer is prejudiced. There is no right of appeal against the refusal of a loan. So the advice to all people, especially people with AIDS who are thinking of emigrating to Britain solely to avail of the welfare services is to think twice. Perhaps for the first time ever the welfare services in this country are arguably better than in Britain. From July 1988 the lowest income for single people over 18 in Ireland will be £37.80 per week. Also, people who are HIV positive or people with AIDS can claim special allowance for rent, diet, heating, clothing, travel costs, laundry costs etc from their local health board. While these payments are discretionary they are not repayable and there is a right of appeal. Further information on the welfare services in Britain can be obtained for Emigrant Advice, 1A Cathedral Street, Dublin, 1. Their telephone number is (01) 732844 FRANK MILLS."

Dignity and pride were much in evidence during Lesbian and Gay Pride Week, held in Dublin between 19-26 June. Although the gutter press - The Star, The Munster Nationalist - tried to sensationalise and demean the intention behind the NGF sponsored Kiss-In at Dail Eireann on Midsummer Day, thirty men and women made a dignified protest aided by one hundred onlookers and hammered home the message of gay law reform to countless bewildered lunchbroke workers and city centre shoppers. The Motown Night at SIDES on Wednesday 22nd June continued an annual tradition once the exclusive preserve of Flikkers Dance Club. After paying costs, Gay Community News was £270 richer from the night's benefit, for which we are eternally grateful. Now how about taking out a £5 subscription for your 'Spinster' aunt? Fishnets and honest-to-goodness clean fun (honestly) were the staple diet of night owls at the Rocky Horror Picture Show on Friday 24th at Harold's Cross Classic Cinema. Given the week that was in it, Frank 'n' Furter's retort to Brad during the steamy seduction scene - "It isn't a crime giving yourself over to passion" - received an hysterical response from the audience: "It is in Dublin!". International Lesbian and Gay Solidarity Day found Gay Health Action, Metropolitan Community Church and the National Gay Federation hosting information stalls at the Irish Film Institute (IFI) in Eustace Street. The ILGA video "We are Everywhere" was also screened. NGF displayed press cuttings, posters and photographs from its archives. They raised a few eyebrows as did the slide show hosted during the latter part of the day's events. It was certainly an opportunity to reclaim and acknowledge our history, or part of it at least. The Pride Party on Saturday evening in the IFI brought out a wonderful mix of revellers. Proceeds from the night, amounting to £500 went to the National Gay Federation, which has been without a major source of income since the loss of the Hirschfeld Centre. Sunday 26 June saw in an overcast day to the Pride Picnic, held on the mound in Merrion Square. About 70 people spent the afternoon being silly, reading newspapers, playing with pink "Pride '88" balloons (dispatched by Tel-A-Friend) and occasionally nibbling at the stupendous hamper of food and drink which came with the NGF Youth Group contingent.Later that evening, close to 200 people packed SIDES for the Lesbian/Gay Health Action Pride Disco. The group received almost £300 in donations.Organised at relatively short notice, i.e. about two months, on a shoe-string budget and without a focal point like the Hirschfeld Centre, the unqualified success of all the events, both political and social, proved that there is a community of Irish lesbians and gay men who are prepared to stand up for our rights and dignity - and have a bloody good time in the process. Bring on Pride'89!!

Angelo Andreucetti, originally from Dublin but now living in London, went to New York for the closing down party of the Saint . . . """A ladder to the sky, each step a perfect dream”. The Saint, NYC, opened in September 1980, the brainchild of Bruce Mailman, owner of the then famous St Mark's Baths. He bought the old Loew's Commodore Theatre at Second Avenue and East South Street, an enormous building; and he went on to create in it the perfect club, aiming to give gay men, who had been consigned to accept overcrowded, crummy conditions, the very best in a dance club. The main area of the club was the infamous and huge circular dance floor, covered in a dome, with a lighting system on which no expense had been spared. An estimated $500,000 a year was spent updating and refurbishing the interior. At a moment's notice and usually at the climax of a particular song, the dome could be transformed magically into a warm, crystal clear sky, sparkling with thousands of stars and planets, spacing off into infinity. A dance floor that exploded with energy, The Saint was a perfect visual feast. On a party night and in its early days, thousands of men would flow through the club, its enormous size offering ample space to every individual. The main lounge area was surrounded by carpeted banquettes, affording casualness and comfort, accomodating, tribes of men from all walks of life; the majority in very altered states. Everyone watched each other, moving with caution, relaxed but almost afraid to upset the creation of beautiful men, music and the flow of all minds. A magnificent illusion which The Saint had the power to turn, for the night into reality. At its start, membership was difficult to obtain.There were the ""A” class clones, thousands of them, who lived each weekday for the weekend, this a very serious business. Notable were the black and vested ones, bodies sculptured to perfection, incredible arms and tits, dancing, roaming endlessly. The leather boys, all black and shining, exchanging recipes and discussing opera were also on duty, along with the fashion victims, carefully exposed under just the right amount of light. The tourists shared and stared and stared, enraptured, exhausted, drugged; swaying with each other, loving each other, becoming one, driven to the ultimate looking for the fulfilment of The Saint's provocative promise. Dripping in sweat, we'd look to rest for a few minutes. The balcony overlooked the dome and, although designed as an observation post, with boys being boys it became a place for sweet and casual sex, where many of us lost ourselves in a blissful and outrageous liberation. The private members locker rooms were the places of ecstatic seclusion. Located as they were on six floors behind the dome, the serious dancer could wash, refresh and resume his way onto the floor and into the night. Goodbye my love, goodbye. Like the death of a close friend, you take with you many hearts. Another casualty of the Aids epidemic, your death began many years ago. With falling attendances, except for the theme nights, the management decided to close the doors for the last time on May 2nd. The Saint was so special. Gay people created its unique atmosphere and we will never see its like again. Lifestyles have changed, many dear friends have gone and with our new outlook on life, those bewitching moments are only recreated to linger in our memories. The Last Party. Hours rolled by and we all paid homage to a ritual that is indisputably gay. The music and men were intertwined together building to that peak of perfection. An illusion created for old time's sake. We explored the very souls of our imaginations, sharing a freedom within The Saint's walls that locked us in the time capsule of our own making. I stood on the banquette, surrounding the dance floor, feeling comfortable, my friends around me. Marlena Shaw, a classic artist of our time, sang Touch Me In The Morning. Thousands of us shared it. Allowing our emotions to overflow we watched as a lightening bolt and a red heart swept across the dome. Below, the air swamped and thick with an affectionate nostalgia tinged with the rosy glow of sadness. The double-tiered mirror ball had gone into the dome forever. We said goodbye. An unforgettable masterpiece. This article originally appeared in The Pink Paper (London)>" """A ladder to the sky, each step a perfect dream”. The Saint, NYC, opened in September 1980, the brainchild of Bruce Mailman, owner of the then famous St Mark's Baths. He bought the old Loew's Commodore Theatre at Second Avenue and East South Street, an enormous building; and he went on to create in it the perfect club, aiming to give gay men, who had been consigned to accept overcrowded, crummy conditions, the very best in a dance club. The main area of the club was the infamous and huge circular dance floor, covered in a dome, with a lighting system on which no expense had been spared. An estimated $500,000 a year was spent updating and refurbishing the interior. At a moment's notice and usually at the climax of a particular song, the dome could be transformed magically into a warm, crystal clear sky, sparkling with thousands of stars and planets, spacing off into infinity. A dance floor that exploded with energy, The Saint was a perfect visual feast. On a party night and in its early days, thousands of men would flow through the club, its enormous size offering ample space to every individual. The main lounge area was surrounded by carpeted banquettes, affording casualness and comfort, accomodating, tribes of men from all walks of life; the majority in very altered states. Everyone watched each other, moving with caution, relaxed but almost afraid to upset the creation of beautiful men, music and the flow of all minds. A magnificent illusion which The Saint had the power to turn, for the night into reality. At its start, membership was difficult to obtain.There were the ""A” class clones, thousands of them, who lived each weekday for the weekend, this a very serious business. Notable were the black and vested ones, bodies sculptured to perfection, incredible arms and tits, dancing, roaming endlessly. The leather boys, all black and shining, exchanging recipes and discussing opera were also on duty, along with the fashion victims, carefully exposed under just the right amount of light. The tourists shared and stared and stared, enraptured, exhausted, drugged; swaying with each other, loving each other, becoming one, driven to the ultimate looking for the fulfilment of The Saint's provocative promise. Dripping in sweat, we'd look to rest for a few minutes. The balcony overlooked the dome and, although designed as an observation post, with boys being boys it became a place for sweet and casual sex, where many of us lost ourselves in a blissful and outrageous liberation. The private members locker rooms were the places of ecstatic seclusion. Located as they were on six floors behind the dome, the serious dancer could wash, refresh and resume his way onto the floor and into the night. Goodbye my love, goodbye. Like the death of a close friend, you take with you many hearts. Another casualty of the Aids epidemic, your death began many years ago. With falling attendances, except for the theme nights, the management decided to close the doors for the last time on May 2nd. The Saint was so special. Gay people created its unique atmosphere and we will never see its like again. Lifestyles have changed, many dear friends have gone and with our new outlook on life, those bewitching moments are only recreated to linger in our memories. The Last Party. Hours rolled by and we all paid homage to a ritual that is indisputably gay. The music and men were intertwined together building to that peak of perfection. An illusion created for old time's sake. We explored the very souls of our imaginations, sharing a freedom within The Saint's walls that locked us in the time capsule of our own making. I stood on the banquette, surrounding the dance floor, feeling comfortable, my friends around me. Marlena Shaw, a classic artist of our time, sang Touch Me In The Morning. Thousands of us shared it. Allowing our emotions to overflow we watched as a lightening bolt and a red heart swept across the dome. Below, the air swamped and thick with an affectionate nostalgia tinged with the rosy glow of sadness. The double-tiered mirror ball had gone into the dome forever. We said goodbye. An unforgettable masterpiece. This article originally appeared in The Pink Paper (London)>"

"The August Bank Holiday heralded a torrent of social excess in Dublin which would require weeks of recounting so I'll contain myself to the Leather and Denim Night on Thursday 4th August, a joint effort between The Parliament Inn and Hooray Henries. Well my trolls, I was simple stunned by the sleazy little bar and dance floor at the top of the Parliament Inn. A veritable den of zoological life, it was. Wonderful cut-outs of beefy men were stuck on the walls and in most cases outshone the real ""cut-outs"" moving abut the place. Large chains and ropes hung fro the ceiling and the men who were hung . . . well I hung around them, naturally. There was some well-worn leather to distract me fro the dreadful music. Who was that awful DJ? He insisted on playing utterly frantic music which simply didn't gel with the raunchy night and decor. The boys in black and blue clearly voted with their feet and remained off the dance floor. The space has great potential and I understand from the Management that a Leather and Denim Night will be held every second Thursday. Worth checking out but do dress down. Apart from the DJ I only had one other quibble. Noel and Co.should get rid of the carpet and go for a rough, minimalist decor. They're sitting on a goldmine . . . once they get it right. Continuing the raunchy splendour of the evening I hiked up to Hooray Henries at the Powerscourt Townhouse Centre (Sth. William Street). I rang the bell and was simply fucked of the spot by an incredible beaut of a doorman, name of Reze. He was to die for, honestly. My darlings of taste, we're talking major orgasm assault here. Reze was lashed out in a dinner box leather jock-strap bulging out of his very torn, very faded 501's, a Levis jacket and a hefty piece of leather on his chest, crowned by a pure and classicaly refined face. I felt like St. Theresa being pierced with the arrow of ecstasy (the didn’t have any drugs in those days). Staggering inside, I surveyed the crowd. I wasn't as busy as I expected and not much leather and denim insight but what was there was admirably dressed down. Manager Eugene was on the trot all night looking after his flock. I must tell you I received the most courteous and thoughtful attention from my host and his staff, Reze and John. Albert O' was playing records and although he couldn't mix for nuts the selection of music was enjoyable - I began to feel rather maudlin at some of the 70's dance/sleaze anthems which massaged my bod throughout the night. All in all a wonderful nights entertainment of which there will undoubtedly be more. They do need to get the finger out regarding publicity to ensure the place is swimming in sweaty bodies next time. And on that salacious thought I bid you slan. Who said anything about the Dublin Street Carnival? TEXT AND PHOTOS BLONDIE BOMBSHELL."