Their songs are our history

Marty O’Connell’s journey to Denver starts in Kansas City. He grew up there – one of 10 children in his family. When he came out, his father suggested a visit to the doctor. His mother was delighted there would be a priest in the family.

But instead of enrolling in seminary, Marty packed his bags and headed west to San Francisco. He arrived in May of 1978. He was 22 years old.

During a walk through the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood, a poster stapled to a telephone pole and advertising tryouts for an all-gay male chorus caught his attention. Back in Kansas City, Marty sang in his high school choir. Some of his fondest memories are singing with his five sisters as they cleaned up after dinner.

So, he decided to join what would later become the San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus.

Today he’s one of only two of the original 110 founding members left. He’s buried the rest of them.

Their song cut short by the HIV/AIDS Epidemic.

But I’m jumping ahead.

The date is Nov. 27, 1978. The San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus is practicing together for only the fourth time. Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man ever to be elected to office, along with the city’s mayor, George Moscone, has been assassinated.

The city, as The San Francisco Chronicle put it, is in agony.

“We looked at each other and said, ‘we can not be at this rehearsal,’” Marty recalls. “We have to get to City Hall.”

Along the way, a song is written by Holly Near, she calls it, “Singing for Our Lives.” The group rehearses the song twice.

We are a gentle, angry people 

and we are singing, singing for our lives 

We are a justice-seeking people 

and we are singing, singing for our lives 

We are young and old together 

and we are singing, singing for our lives 

We are a land of many colors 

and we are singing, singing for our lives 

We are gay and straight together 

and we are singing, singing for our lives 

We are a gentle, loving people 

and we are singing, singing for our lives

The simple song and its debut are many firsts: the first time the chorus publicly performs. Actually, it’s the first time a chorus – anywhere – with the word “gay” in its name publicly performs. And it is the first of many battle hymns LGBT choruses will come to compose and perform.

Present day, I scribble in my notebook as many punny jokes about the huge gay music festival as I can come up with. Think the Olympics for gay choirs, but without the medals. There are 6,000 singing LGBTers in the Mile High City. I keep telling myself to keep a lookout for Judy, Liza or Barbra. Surely, one of them has to manifest with this much gay in one city block.

And while there is a campy, lighter side to GALA Choruses, the organization behind Festival 2012, the punny is quickly slapped out of me when I realize these choirs are as much a part of the history and struggle for LGBT equality as ACT UP, HRC or the Task Force.

In fact, for so many, like Marty, it was how they fought back.

“After that performance, at City Hall,” Marty said. “We knew we were going to make a statement. And we have.”

Sure, songs like “We Shall Go Forth,” “Never Ever,” and “I Shall Miss Loving You,” were never Top 40 hits. But they weren’t meant to be. They were written and performed to bring comfort to the comfortless, hope to the hopeless, to be a rallying cry for those who needed to yell – but chose to sing, instead.

The proof is in the pudding.

Earlier that Sunday, Marty took in a concert of his own. A group of six teenagers from his hometown have formed their own choir: OUTKC and they, too, made the trip to Denver.

Marty’s voice cracks as he talks about the performance.

“The little groups… they’re the ones that break your heart,” he says. “They’re just so brave. … I didn’t have that opportunity when I was in school. … I wish I would have been born 30 years later.”

“But, Marty, if you were, who would have formed the San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus?” I ask. “Those kids wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you.”

“Oh, I’m no leader,” he said.

I respectfully disagree.