Where have all the gays gone?

Barely a whisper has lately been uttered by what were once considered some of the most prominent, even model, gay groups in the country. It’s time for a look at the state of the gay state.

By Tony Giampetruzzi

OUT OF HERE: his position slashed, Robbe's “new attitude” is now in New York City.

Less than three years ago, practically every major Maine-based organization devoted to advocacy on behalf of gays and lesbians — Maine Lesbian Gay Political Alliance, Maine SpeakOut Project, Portland Outright — figured prominently in the state’s political landscape. What’s more, many of the groups were recognized nationally for their contributions to the community, their unique formulas for sustainability, and their uncanny ability (particularly SpeakOut’s and Outright’s) to raise sick amounts of money.

Even after 2000’s agonizing defeat at the ballot box confirmed Maine’s status as the only state in New England without a statewide gay-rights law, activists didn’t retreat in shame. More and more communities began to explore locally approved protections for gays and Portland expanded its already prolific coterie of incentives to keep gays and lesbians blissful in the city. From rebuffing the Boy Scouts, the Salvation Army, and Catholic Charities, to the appointment of Portland’s first openly gay mayor, everything was undertaken very publicly and it seemed that groups such as MLGPA and SpeakOut always had something to speak out about.

During the past year, however, the pulse of gay life in Maine has flat-lined and looking at gay and lesbian advocacy groups is sorta like reading a “Where are they now?” issue of People magazine. Even the halls of power in Augusta seem a little less pink these days. Sure, there are some gay legislators out there, but they tend to be of the ilk who believe that their sexuality is irrelevant to policy-making — Representative Scott Cowger (D-Hallowell) is among them. Gone are the likes of youth advocate Michael Quint (D-Portland), who gave an impassioned “Yep, I’m gay” speech on the floor of the legislature in 1997, only to be humiliated last year when the Portland Press Herald announced that he may be lying about his prolific academic credentials; and, in election 2002, a handful of gay legislative hopefuls were forced to keep their day jobs, particularly gay politico extraordinaire David Garrity, who suffered a crushing defeat to John Eder.

Even during the campaign that led to 2002’s one big victory, the vote to deny a repeal of Westbrook’s civil-rights ordinance, the fight was led more by vocal church leader Susan Gilpin (who asked that the council take up the ordinance) and city councilor Keith Gorman (who pushed for its acceptance), than the MLGPA.

Today, it seems that the only truly vocal group of gays and lesbians in the state is the Maine GayNet listserve, a group of hundreds, if not thousands, of pedantic observers — led by list mistress Paula Stockholm, a former Mainer living in Maryland — many of whom seemingly have little else to do but plant themselves at their keyboards and wax poetically about inane goings-on locally and nationally. Recent discussions have tackled everything from the listmistress’s dramatic bout with alcoholism to the benefits of 300-CD changers to local pet services.

But what’s this? Just about a month ago, a peculiar and troubling discussion began on Maine GayNet only days after the Maine SpeakOut Project confirmed the prediction of many — its operating budget had been scaled down to pocket change and executive director Scott Robbe would be heading south.

It seemed that SpeakOut wasn’t the only group in trouble and, if you believed what you read, Outright, arguably one of the most formidably funded, expertly executed, and universally admired gay groups in the state, was about to shut its doors to the more than 750 young people that it served on a yearly basis.

One GayNet member who identified herself as an Outright insider wrote: “Outright is in serious danger, and it makes me so sad. To lose such a wonderful organization would be terrible. I guess only time will tell for now.” She continued in a follow-up post to suggest that the group’s comfy digs on Congress Street would be the first thing to go. “Outright is in dire need of money . . . none of us wants to lose the space. It’s terrible to consider this a possibility but sadly it is a reality.”

Of course, the rumor set frantic fingers to work at laptops all over the state asking questions — How could this be? Is it true? To which another former Outrighter, speaking with an air of authority, lamented, “Consider the facts corroborated. Outright is in incredibly bad financial shape right now, and is seriously concerned that it might have to close down shortly.”

All the while, Outright remained mum on the subject, which was probably judicious because, within 24 hours, the discussion became convoluted and tangential (one well known activist suggested that Outright begin opening its doors to adults, claiming that its policies amounted to nothing more than ageism and that the group furthers the myth that older gay men are pederasts). One former Outright executive board chair quipped: “Anyone want to organize a bottle drive? Bake sale? Kissing booth? Voluntary prostitution?” To which yet another Gaynetter responded, “Put me down for baking, kissing, and prostitution. I’m good at all three.” Um, problem solved.

Even if GayNet twaddle may be specious at best, there is no doubting the perception that gay activist groups, and the people who lead them, are losing their steam and the perception is in no small way attributable to the lack of noise from the groups themselves.

Wayne Besen, deputy director of communications for the Human Rights Commission, a leading national gay advocacy group, says you can’t blame it all on the economy. “Different organizations adapt to changing times,” he says, “but we are still facing very high hurdles. There is a very organized right wing out there right now that attacks us at every turn. People are still getting fired from their jobs for being gay! Life is not all good, it is not Will and Grace.”

Nor would he allow that this quiet in Maine is typical. “It certainly isn’t a trend that is happening nationally,” he says, “but I guess it depends on what part of the country you’re talking about . . . We all need to be working as hard as we can based on the resources that we have.”

Scott Robbe, the now-former executive director of SpeakOut is working hard — in the world of New York City media, that is, because the rumors about the state’s largest gay speaker’s bureau are true. Once a vibrant, well funded organization that served as a model for similar groups, SpeakOut announced last month that Robbe would be forced to step-down from his position due to the group’s economic hardship.

“Due to the current difficult financial climate in the nonprofit sector, the Board [of Directors] has decided to lay off its executive director to better preserve its limited resources,” said Kate Neale, Maine SpeakOut Project board member and spokesperson. “The organization will be directed by the Board until such time that it becomes fiscally prudent to hire a new executive director.”

The news was unnerving. SpeakOut had made a name for itself in part by holding celebrity-inspired fundraisers . . . as recently as 2001 it even had a NYC fundraising office! In fact, under the leadership of its former executive director, Jonathon Lee, SpeakOut quickly morphed from a local speaker’s bureau to a sprawling organization in a matter of five years. From Walk With the One You Love, an event that was born in Portland but is now held in cities and towns across the country, to the ill-fated America SpeaksOut, a training organization for those in other states and communities interested in starting their own similar organization, SpeakOut, under Lee, was trying desperately to be a national player a la the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force or Human Rights Campaign.

Lee was a voracious fundraiser, holding big-ticket events with the likes of former senator George Mitchell (D-Maine), playwright Edward Albee, Massachusetts US Representative Barney Frank, and other notables, but, citing exhaustion in 2001, Lee left SpeakOut and Robbe, a national activist, was hired for the top spot. He quickly realized that he had a big mess on his hands.

“The truth is that SpeakOut wasn’t all that financially healthy when I came on board. It was just getting by,” says Robbe adding that SpeakOut, under Lee, developed a rather dubious reputation. “Yes. I’ve heard all those things about SpeakOut. That we are elitist, classist, that it’s just a bunch of rich white boys, but none of that is stuff that I hadn’t heard when I worked with other organizations. I will say that resources weren’t shared. There was never a lot of collaboration going on between SpeakOut and other organizations and there was a lot of tension with other gay and lesbian groups in the state. My goal was to spend a lot of time during my first few months working to repair relationships with those groups.”

He says that Lee was trying to get the organization to a point where it could do nationally what it was doing locally, but that lack of resources in a failing economy, and sentiment from a lot of people that the organization should help fix things here in Maine, crippled the organization.

“I mean, let’s face it, after two huge, contentious referenda, Maine is still the only state in New England that doesn’t have a basic law protecting gays and lesbians from discrimination, so there was still a lot of education that was necessary right here. If the old saying ‘As goes Maine, so goes the nation’ is true, then I think a lot of people would have been really cautious in embracing SpeakOut in other places — we should have been more focused on getting the work done right here. [Lee] made a huge mistake.”

Before moving back to New York last month, Robbe told the Phoenix that SpeakOut was operating day-to-day, that money was incredibly tight, and it was not yet known whether their Dana Street office of skeleton staff would remain intact. As for Lee, he is nowhere to be found.

“Jonathon? He has really disappeared into the night. Last thing I knew he was teaching English as a second language somewhere in Brazil and he was staying in frequent contact through email but that all stopped about two months ago. Who knows?”

SpeakOut isn’t the only Maine group charged with educating the Pine Tree State, but the Maine Lesbian Gay Political Alliance, the gay voice in Augusta and around the state, is the current Danny Bonaduce of Maine gay groups. For years, MLGPA made gay and lesbian politics stand out in Maine, what with agonizing but valiant attempts at a statewide gay-rights law, the successful gayification of Portland, and some high-profile local referenda in South Portland and Falmouth.

Remember when the Portland Press Herald was hoodwinked into distributing a rag that asserted that gay men have a penchant for eating shit? Or how about when Paul Volle, executive director of the Maine Christian Coalition was arrested at the Statehouse for protesting gays? (He was also arrested for stealing a pack of Duracells at Shop N’ Save in the early ’90s, but he claimed his heart meds made him do it.) Like it or not, that was the stuff of which visibility is made. But it appears that the glory days are over, at least for now.

After all, it was just over a year ago that the Phoenix wrote a glowing (some would say gratuitous) story called “MLGPA Reborn” in which we reported that leaders Maggie Allen and Rick Galena were charting a new course for the organization, replete with a complete legislative agenda, a media blitz of War-With-Iraq proportions, and a promised state-of-the-art Web site (still under construction) that would link every corner of gay Maine to once and for all silence those who said that the group was too Portland-centric.

Here’s news, only because we’re breaking it, not because it’s timely: Galena carpet-bagged his way to Washington, DC, late last year to run finance operations for Michaud’s re-election campaign and former MLGPA prez Betsy Smith returned to Maine and took his place months ago.

The “Reborn” article was the last major proclamation we heard from the group — until recently. The Portland Press Herald reported last month that MLGPA insiders had talked a number of het legislators out of introducing another gay-rights bill this year. It could be a PR disaster for the group — the Press Herald failed to point out the method behind MLGPA’s madness and that won’t be good for gays in the hinterlands who already consider MLGPA to be disconnected from the community it serves.

“There is no guarantee that there would be a referendum to repeal the law if it passed the Legislature, but I am personally convinced that there would be one,” said Dorothy Lemanson, chair of the MLGPA legislative committee and Democratic National Committeewoman for Maine, happy to provide explanation. “Yes, it’s infuriating, but, after the last referendum, I think we have all had to sit and look around. Are we ready to go forward with something like that again? Worse, are we ready to lose again?”

The bill refusal wasn’t the only announcement from the group that has raised eyebrows in recent months. One of the group’s most important tasks is making endorsements in political elections. In 2002, the thumbs up were nothing if not bizarre. I was scratching my head when Republican Robin Lambert, an MLGPA board member, bested Portland Dem Ethan Strimling in endorsement votes for a Senate seat from Portland, while MLGPA board member and former president David Garrity was passed over for dark horse (people thought at the time) Green candidate John Eder.

But, perceived foibles and relative silence aside, MLGPA is alive and well. They have, however, recognized that it’s time to review their mission. In fact, Smith says that the group, after some serious reorganizing, is going forward with its “Reborn” goals. The Web site-in-progress can at least be found on the ’Net with a little bit of work, and some yet-to-be-determined legislation that will ease economic restraints on gays and lesbians will bring Ms. Smith to Augusta to do some lobbying. As for that pesky gay-rights issue? “Taking our time will give us a winning strategy and success. There’s a huge chance that the Legislature wouldn’t even pass a gay-rights bill right now . . . We have a lot of other work to do.”

REINCARNATE: a year later, the MLGPA is hoping to be “reborn” once again.

If there was a million dollars to give, chances are people would most like to see it go to Outright. No organization is more admired, and their supposed demise, according to GayNet prophets, has drawn more vocal concern than the problems plaguing either MLGPA or the shaky SpeakOut. Turns out, Outright, which has an operating budget that hovers somewhere in the $200,000 range, is in no imminent danger of closing its doors. Sure the economy, a major organizational structure shift, and the rapid departure of many of its leaders have taken their toll on the group, but group leaders say that’s all good for Outright in the long term.

“The rumors aren’t true, but two things have been happening at the same time [that started the rumors],” says Christine O’Leary, an Outright board member. “First, we have been experiencing the same thing that every nonprofit has been experiencing in terms of money ending. We were operating with a lot of three-year and two-year grants and those recently began to cycle down . . . Plus, a lot of the people have moved on . . . It all started happening at the same time.”

This isn’t the first time that Outright has had to struggle. Beginning in the basement of a local church, the group, which serves glbtq (the q stands for “questioning”) under the age of 22, operated on a shoestring budget for several years before its guardian angel, Cathy Kidman, came on board in the mid ’90s. Known statewide for her expert fundraising skills and her rare directorial abilities, the award-winning Kidman eventually brought the organization’s budget up to the mid-six figures with grants from such prestigious organizations as the Ford and Gill Foundations. Such money is not easy to come by, and it takes a slick grant proposal to procure one of the multi-year grants. Kidman succeeded, though, and, with the funds, Outright hit its zenith in the late ’90s.

With Kidman’s departure, the introduction of a decidedly weaker executive director in Tami Eldridge and, later, a host of very weak financial and development directors and the ending of some major grants, Outright had to re-evaluate its path. What they came up with last year is a little something they like to call the ‘Ramp Up Plan’, and it appears that, despite some nay-sayers, the plan is beginning to take shape.

“Basically, we have created an organizational structure that is a real youth-driven collective,” says Jayson Hunt, Outright’s program coordinator and one of two staff members currently on board. “It calls for coordinators in areas of content rather than a hierarchy scheme — financial development; programs, support, and advocacy; education and outreach; HIV prevention; and communications. Those are all paid positions and we also do internships.” What of the other staff members to head the other departments?

ßWe have certain bench marks for fundraising and when those benchmarks are met, we’ll fill those spots. Currently, we are filling HIV prevention and education/outreach and speakers bureau positions at 20 hours, benefited.”

Hunt says that Outright has the money to fill more positions, but not enough to get the motor running at full steam. Still, the organization is in no danger of folding. O’Leary adds that there is a good reason why Outright has been out of the limelight as of late: Many of the group’s grants, particularly those from the Ford Foundation, focused on leadership training, and receipt of the money stipulated that members undergo certain trainings and then talk about them . . . a lot.

“We went to trainings and then we’d come back to do an in-service, you know, walk the walk, do the talk . . . But, we’re no longer in that capacity,” says O’ Leary. “Look, I want to make sure that we’re serving as many young people as we can, and we’re doing that. Things are different. We’re not sending people to conferences, but we do have 760 young people a year coming through these doors and a lot of people in the community may not know what’s going on, but that’s okay as long as those young people are getting what they need.”

The organization has had to re-evaluate the population it serves and expand its services to meet those needs. More and more, Outright is the first stop for young people who are looking for more than a place to hang with other queer people. Crisis situations are common, and Outright has worked to foster relationships with other agencies to meet the needs of the youth they serve.

“I think that as a former Outrighter, I know this was the place to go when there wasn’t a lot of other stuff out there,” Hunt recalls. “But we are still the primary resource for that young person who is not getting what they need regardless of whether it’s a crisis response or if it’s just a place to hang out with queer friends. The types of ways that people come to use Outright has changed and it has had to become much more multi-faceted.”

Hunt points out, also, that Outright Portland is a benchmark for the several other Outrights in the state, most of which rely on scant funding from local AIDS service organizations for program money. And, while the bulging bank account of Outright Portland was at one time a big bone of contention among other Maine Outrights, those groups seem to be less critical of Portland these days.

“Portland has given us unconditional support with staff and has helped us with any other resources that we need,” says Michael Mayer, the director of Downeast Outright in Ellsworth. “Regardless of their financial situation, they continue to be the place to go and they are the people who will get involved. You can always call them and they will get you exactly what you need. There are so many young people involved in their programs and the decision making is just so good, everyone gets together and everything just seems to be on equal footing.”

And as for those nasty rumors of Portland’s demise, Mayer suggests that people should take a real interest in the organization before jumping to conclusions. “They’re doing fine. I’ve spoken to a lot of the young people who live in the area. I guess the word got out that a few grants didn’t make it, but that’s okay,” he said. “They may not have gotten the money that they wanted, but they certainly didn’t have the shortfall that would force them to close . . . Everyone seems to be looking for drama.”

Current fundraising at Outright is indeed creeping along. The group is now relying on some young people to take an active role in seeking new grants, a radical decision that has some community members wincing. But money is trickling in and documents show that the organization is still breaking even. “We have a lot of people who contribute in many different ways,” says O’Leary. “We have donors who contribute $10- or $20-thousand and we have a lot of $25 checks. As for major donors, peoples’ money situation has changed since 9-11. Philanthropic fatigue has certainly set in, so the major donor may not be able to send in the $20,000 each year. We have more individual donations coming in in lesser denominations and with less frequency, but they are coming in.”

She says that the organization’s unfailing commitment to the community it serves is the hallmark of its success, not the amount of money the group is raising. “Our mission hasn’t changed, we have a greater capacity to offer services, we’re better at it than we have ever been, and, above all, there is still no blame, shame, or guilt. . . And, guess what. The young people of Maine are telling us, yeah, you are on the right track.”

O’Leary’s outlook may be a bit rosy given the dark tunnel that is the economy, and it doesn’t look like things will get any better soon (the grand Bush tax plan aside, of course). Leaders at all Maine gay groups acknowledge that greater visibility and a more active role in the community will be the key to securing the funding necessary to stay alive — and it’s gonna take more than a Web site and a wish these days.

Former MLGPA president Rick Galena, current finance director for Congressman Mike Michaud, has the benefit of hindsight and experiences with activist organizations as both an insider and observer.

“Yes, I absolutely think there is a problem,” he says of Maine’s gay activist organizations. “But, I think there are superficial problems and then those that are very deeply rooted. Obviously the economic downturn has really impacted small organizations that don’t have robust funding operations, and that is now true of MLGPA, Outright, and SpeakOut . . . The second part, and this is particularly true of MLGPA, is that they do not have a diverse funding base. They were sending out one mailing each year, and getting a grant here and there, and what they got was their operating budget. One of the things I tried to do while I was there was ramp up their fundraising, trying to get some major funding and appealing to major donors, but, yes, there’s a big lack of diversity in funding.

“The deeper problems are more worrisome. One of the things that I noticed when I came to MLGPA is that there is a complete vacuum of leadership in the gay community in Maine. There is no one to lead on legislative issues, no one to stand up and say, ‘Where are we going?’ ‘Where do we want to go?’ ‘Where do we want to be in five years?’

“We used to have those people, like Karen Geraghty who became a city councilor and then mayor. She was very, very active and people knew who she was. Or Dale McCormick, state treasurer. A lot of those people have stepped out of the spotlight and there is no one out there right now who is as dynamic as they were.

“Third, I just think that some of these organizations suffer from a lack of grass-roots organizing. They follow election years and a boom or bust cycle. They can’t operate that way, and that has been happening too long.”

Of course, Galena had the opportunity to be one of the leaders he wishes would emerge, and didn’t spend much time fixing MLGPA, but some of his points ring true. Much of fundraising is based on perceived threat, and much of perceived threat is based on an active leader making noise in the community, and those leaders should intuitively come from the state’s activist organizations. If they spend too much time looking inward, they might not like what they see when they look back out on the state of all things gay in Maine.

Tony Giampetruzzi can be reached at tgiamp@aol.com.