I'm Willing To Bet That Kyrsten Sinema And Sean Patrick Maloney Will Never Be On A Postage Stamp

I have credits on a lot of films and albums but none thrill me as much as when the end credits on the 1984 documentary, The Times of Harvey Milk roll and I see my name. I wasn't in the movie and I was shocked to see my name in the credits. It was there because the filmmaker had used some stills I had taken of Harvey over the years. I had been unable to bring myself to watch it-- too distraught-- for over a decade and had no idea my name was attached to it.

Harvey was an important person in my life when I first moved to the West Coast after having lived in Europe for nearly 7 years after college. I was penniless when I got to San Francisco but I had been teaching darkroom technique (as a form of meditation) at The Kosmos in Amsterdam and was eager to ditch a 9-5 job and work as a photographer. Harvey ran a camera shop right next door to my favorite record shop and hang out, Aquarius, on Castro Street. We got to know each other and he eventually staked me with the equipment I needed to set up my own darkroom. In return, I became the "official" photographer for his election campaigns. It was fun and, obviously, I had no idea Harvey would go on to become an icon for the LGBT community.

I'll never forget a day at the camera shop soon after he was finally elected Supervisor-- the first openly gay man in California to ever be elected to office. His victory was national news, even in Time and Newsweek-- which were meaningful back in those days-- and he was getting bagfuls of mail. He read me some of them, one from a high school kid in Kansas or Iowa or Nebraska... I can't recall, one of those traditional farm belt states. The kid just wanted to say thank you to Harvey for giving him hope, hope that he didn't have to kill himself. Harvey and I were both weeping when he read it. I'm weeping again right now writing about it.

After right-wing assassin Dan White got what was coming to him, despite the criminal justice system, I moved to Los Angeles. SFO is such an inconvenient, hassle-guaranteed airport-- like LAX-- that whenever I fly up to the Bay Area I fly into Oakland Airport. But if San Francisco goes through with Supervisor David Campos' bill to rename SFO the Harvey Milk-San Francisco International Airport, I will definitely fly into it-- at least once. For now, we'll have to settle for a postage stamp.

"Thirty-five years after Harvey Milk made history as California's first openly gay elected leader," wrote Kurtis Alexander, "he's closing in on another historical first. The U.S> Postal Service said Friday that the late San Francisco supervisor and civil rights leader will join the likes of John F. Kennedy, Rosa Parks and Jackie Robinson by being recognized with a commemorative stamp-- and honor that had apparently never before gone to an openly gay politician… While gay rights was always a priority for Milk, his agenda included a variety of issues, from affordable housing to public transportation to expanded child care."

Obviously he was nothing like today's sorry crop of gay Democratic conservatives like Sean Patrick Maloney (New Dem-NY) and Kyrsten Sinema (New Dem-AZ), who are good on gay issues but terrible on the kinds of crucial economic justice issues which had Milk a beloved and respected figure outside the LGBT community.