Yes on 6

Fear and loathing on the campaign trail

By Annmarie Timmins

A half mile from the Saco headquarters, the brakes on the Equality Express start acting funny. A hole in the roof — a souvenir from the Alice Cooper concert two weeks ago [see ‘This Just In,’ October 13, 2000] — was creating a racket in the back. And this four-day road trip isn’t an hour old when the luggage comes raining down around campaign staff.

“We have to re-evaluate this space because I’m going to go out of my mind,” says Tony Giampetruzzi, the media secretary for the Yes on 6 campaign (a Phoenix freelance writer) and a regular on the used and worn Winnebago that is taking the crusade for gay rights to the far reaches of Maine. One tank of gas at a time.

The amenities are few, and then they are just in the way: the refrigerator isn’t connected and the bathroom has become a closet. The kind of closet you stuff, close quickly, and watch your back. In fact, the van’s fanciest touch is its red, white, and blue paint job that came with this proviso: “Vehicle should look good from about 30 +/- feet but doesn’t have to look good close up.” (The reason? Television cameras won’t get any closer.)

“It’s no frills,” Giampetruzzi says. “It does exactly what it needs to do and that’s it.”

And it is doing it: polls show that 66 percent of Mainers favor Question 6, which says gays and lesbians can’t be denied work, housing, credit, and public accommodations because of their sexual persuasion (although concessions in the referendum exempt certain religious organizations).

Jeanette Fruen, the perpetually positive mastermind pouring over campaign notes at the kitchenette table in the back, was brought in from Oregon to direct this grassroots, shoe-string campaign. She’s led 22 similar efforts and has never lost. Doubting her feels a little like doubting Yoda, so when she dismisses the downers — the hole in the roof or the negative publicity the other side and its van have brought her own efforts — you dismiss with her.

It gets a bit tougher to believe, however, when the Equality Express arrives at Bowdoin College to a crowd of two. The rally, held in honor of National Coming Out Week, did eventually swell to five. Yes, it was mid-term week, but it was a small start for a journey that would take the Equality Express and its four staffers on the campaign’s farthest trip north, to Fort Kent.

Nonetheless, Fruen finds something to smile about. “Well,” she says, “we’re right on time.”

And then, while the rest of the crew chases down campaign paraphernalia that is blowing off the table, Fruen begins working. The rally was organized by the gay and lesbian group at Bowdoin, so Fruen doesn’t need to convince them to vote Yes on Question 6. She needs to persuade them to get others to vote Yes.

“Most Mainers think it’s already illegal to discriminate,” Fruen says. “Sign up to help us. Get your classmates to register to vote. This is not just a gay and lesbian issue. This is a Mainer’s issue.”

The whole event — introductions, set up, rally, and clean up — takes about 30 minutes. The Equality Express had driven an hour for this. And Fruen doesn’t appreciate a question about the apparent low return on her investment.

“In any movement you start with a few people and it moves out,” she says. “It’s like throwing the pebble out.”

The Equality Express continued on to Orono, stopping at a service station first to get the brakes checked. The two students who greeted it watched it leave, loaded down with bumper stickers and other campaign paraphernalia. And a plan.

“We are going to stuff every single mailbox on campus,” promises Margaret Peachy, a junior.

“They were inspirational,” adds her classmate. “And that’s a really cool truck.”