Personal memory of early Dignity in Chicago

It was a warm August afternoon when I first walked up the steps of St. Sebastian Church in 1975 to attend a Dignity mass. I went to meet a friend that had promised to be there inside the church waiting for me. At that time you would not wait outside for fear of being seen by others. You must remember that even though Stonewall had happened in 1969 and a ray a hope was created by those brave actions in New York City, that was NYC and this was Chicago, and things were different then. Bars were still very clandestine destinations entered though dark alleys late at night. Bar windows were painted to make sure that no one was seen. Police still raided the bars in the Chicago of the early 70’s and names of those rounded up were printed in the newspapers for all to read about in the morning. We read of suicides committed by people finding their names in the morning paper. Somehow these justified the idea that the person was guilty. But of what? Being gay was still a disgrace and people lost their families and their jobs if discovered. So as a young man recently arrived in Chicago, going into a gay mass in broad daylight was frightening.

Once inside I met my friend and promptly took a seat for mass to begin. As I looked around I saw over 100 people in that church, men and women, ‘regular’ people who had all come together for the same reason: to worship at a Catholic Mass. It was incredible! Lights were on. People weren’t hiding in a dark bar but out in the open. I had never seen so many gays and lesbians in one place at the same time. The irrational fear of being discovered, outed, reported at work still lingered, but there I stayed. When the organ began the processional and everyone started to sing, it dawned on me that I really wasn’t in Kansas any more! Church congregations were mostly silent at that time with only a few making a feeble attempt to intone even the most well known songs, and here everyone was singing with strength and conviction. Yes, this was not going to be your everyday church!

The liturgy strictly followed the Church’s guidelines without any variations. It was a ‘real’ mass for ‘real’ gay and lesbian Catholics and there could be no divergence that would cause any criticism of its validity. Although the congregation was replete with a wide variety of clergy, I most remember 3 priests who were very influential in celebrating mass and working with Dignity Chicago in the beginning: Fr. Rick Woods, O.P. (currently River Forest, IL), Fr. Mario DiCicco, O.F.M. (currently San Francisco, CA), and Fr. Michael Jacobson (desceased). Each was so different and distinct; tall – short, large – small, witty – serious, intellectual – emotional, and yet they were there for us. They laughed with us and supported us in our pain. These were men saw the craving in the GLBT community to worship in a safe space and to have the opportunity to meet others like themselves and to know that they were not alone. Fr. Rick Woods, a prolific writer, used his experience with Dignity and a survey of the membership to write his book, “Another Kind of Love”, the back section of which contains quotes from our fellow Dignitaries of that time. Fr. Mario began the “Married Men’s Group” which met to discuss the integration of faith, sexuality and family among gay married men. This group widely represented a greater Chicago and comprised attorneys, doctors, judges, partners of major Chicago firms, as well as other professionals. Fr. Michael was broadly inclusive and forward thinking. Weekend Dignity retreats were well attended often having 40-50 participants, and as a leader at one of our retreats Fr. Michael led us to discuss the need for inclusive language and the feminine nature of the divine.

It was not until the 1980’s that I got to know the numerous Jesuits, Sacred Heart Fathers, Viatorians, other Franciscans and many other clergy that were among the congregation and sometimes celebrating mass. (They were there all along but I did not get to know them personally until later.) It was wonderful to have a place in which both laity and ordained ministers were comfortable being together and sharing their lives and beliefs together. There was a true sense of church and communal worship at St. Sebastian’s on Sunday evenings. After mass there was a social hour at which I met Dignity members who had been coming since the very beginning. One man, only a few years older than myself, told me of how he had come every Sunday for months and walked up and down the block trying to get the courage to come into the church. The fear of repercussions of being seen to enter the church during a ‘gay’ mass or of being recognized by someone inside had kept him in turmoil for all these months. When he finally had the strength to come inside, he said that he had met so many others who had done the same thing and knew of others that were still trying to make the breakthrough of entering. We talked about how many only came after the mass had started so that they could sit in a hidden back pew or left right after communion so as not to be seen. Being anonymous was still important and as in the bars, very few ever gave a last name. If you became a member of the organization you would get a membership card with a phone number to call on the back if you were picked up in a raid or needed bail money. It was a way that members could support members, and helped to allay the fears caused by raids on the bars.

I made some of my best friends at these social hours. At that time, St. Sebastian’s was the only place to meet others outside of the ‘bar scene’. Catholic or not, religious or not, they came for the safe space that Dignity afforded them. There were no ‘gay centers’, no ‘social clubs’, no sports leagues, no Internet ‘connections’ and so, many Protestants and even Jews came to St. Sebastian’s to find gay friends. Today none of my friends from the 70’s come to Dignity. Some have moved out of town, some are aligned with other organizations closer to their own beliefs, some have gone to their parishes and worship with their local GLBT groups, others have lost their connection to the Roman Church and others have passed on. But it was Dignity that brought us all together at the start of our ‘gay lives’ and became the bond that was forged our friendships of the past 40 years.

The late seventies ushered in many changes to Chicago. From Disco to The Bistro, everything was growing rapidly. Bars opened along Clark and Hubbard and Illinois Streets and that area of town was the gay Mecca for the young. The raids had stopped and gay life became more open, yet still not accepted nor legal. Dignity also grew. With weekly attendance over 100 and a soaring membership, Sunday mass now had greeters, lectors, Communion ministers, a weekly program/bulletin, choir director Patrick O’Hogan, organist, asocial committee, and an outreach committee. Dignity began to thrive and to discover its place not only as a refuge but also as an organization to be active in our church and community. Our mission was to “reconcile gays with the church” but it quickly extended beyond that. The early days of the eighties took Dignity to Wichita, KS to make a stand against the repeal of their gay rights ordinance. But that and other community activism I’ll leave for the person discussing the 80’s.

Although the number of women attending Dignity remained small, future leaders began to attend. Arlene Halko, a noted medical physicist, began attending Dignity along with me in 1975 and would become the first lesbian president of Dignity Chicago. She would serve two terms as president and be on the Board for five years. As president she hired our first female chaplain, Sister Lois, who became our first woman homilist at mass.

AIDS awareness came very personally to Dignity when in 1984, David, who had moved to NYC only the year before died suddenly of the disease. I had visited him only a few weeks before his death and we had talked about Dignity Chicago and all of his friends here. Fr. Carl Meirose S.J., offered our first mass for him and the victims of AIDS on the day of his burial. Then AIDS began to hit Chicago full force. In 1985 Arlene was one of the nine cofounders of Chicago House and as owner of Piggens Pub organized the first tag days and fundraisers for HIV/AIDS in Chicago. She, along with many other Dignity members, were on the front line when AIDS was still considered a ‘gay’ disease. The coordination and contribution of members from the lesbian community and Dignity Chicago were primary in Chicago’s response to this disease.