by Mark Segal
At the 2013 annual National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association (NLGJA) convention in Boston, it amazed me to hear most print journalists there bemoaning the condition of LGBT media. I was honored to be there to get inducted into the NLGJA Hall of Fame. In my speech, I was originally planning to simply thank the NLGJA and get off the stage, but this feeling of impending doom for LGBT media led me, at the last minute, to change my address.
To offer an air of optimism, I explained that Philadelphia Gay News, which is now the nation’s most awarded LGBT publication, owns its own building and equipment. All of our bills and taxes are paid to date and we employ a full-time staff of thirteen with full benefits. That is success in print media. Then the most important part—how did we become so strong and how do we stay that way? It’s a simple formula, at least to me. One must have a strong business department that embraces the need to hire award-winning journalists. Period. It is imperative to put out not only an LGBT newspaper, but a high-quality mainstream newspaper. The key is hard opinion pieces, unbiased news coverage, and investigative reporting. Here I recalled the Nizah Morris case, which at that time prompted a new report by the Philadelphia Police Advisory Commission and caused rule changes at the Philadelphia Police Department. No other paper that I know of would put the resources into such a story for so long, but it paid dividends in the end.
In the early days of AIDS we began to hear about insurance companies dropping men they discovered to be gay or otherwise refusing to insure gay men. We had a reporter call every major insurance company nationwide. This was at a time when there was no Internet and long-distance calls were expensive. The bill for those calls alone was nine hundred dollars. But it was a story that we owned. Few other publications were producing that kind of in-depth material.
Hard news and features keep you relevant. We were out front on the Boy Scouts issue, reporting on the city of Philadelphia’s decade-long battle with its local chapter. We also covered the dangers of pumping parties, attended by poor trans people to get the hormones they can’t afford from traditional medical resources. These innovative and relevant stories pushed boundaries and appeared nowhere else . . .
At the PGN, we expected controversy, but it managed to find us even when we weren’t looking. We conducted a public service campaign that stemmed from a series of features on drug addiction in the LGBT community. We spoke to Nurit Shein, CEO of the Mazzoni Center, the local LGBT heath organization in Philadelphia, which in 2014 had over a hundred employees. The campaign sought to highlight the issue of addiction—how it destroys lives and how to seek help. Many in the LGBT community do not feel comfortable in mainstream drug treatment programs, since they are often judged on their sexual orientation rather than their drug use. We never expected a deluge of letters and calls asking, “Why would Philadelphia Gay News show our community in such a bad way?”
Nurit and the PGN staff felt the campaign was worth the outrage and continued forth; I suspect that the anger and debate about the campaign might have reached more people than the campaign itself. I explained to the audience at the NLGJA awards ceremony that our paper has partnerships with Philly.com (the Philadelphia Inquirer) and the Philadelphia Business Journal, the first such partnerships in the nation. We also work with the Philadelphia Multicultural Media Network, which has helped more than twenty newspapers, and allowed us to work with a wide range of publications, making Philly a vibrant, diversified newspaper city. There was much more that I could have added, but my time was limited. My desire was to bring new ideas and optimism, and I believe I succeeded.
The reality is that Philadelphia Gay News has been on a winning streak for the last decade; in 2008 something very special happened, which made this really sink in. The paper was informed by the Suburban Newspapers of America that journalistically we were one of the top ten weekly newspapers in the nation. Not one of the top ten LGBT weeklies, but top ten of all weeklies. Our then-editor Sarah Blazucki basked in the spotlight, as she should have. Sarah, now working for the Peace Corps in Washington, DC, came to her position at Philadelphia Gay News after starting as a reporter.
Our staff has gone on to garner more individual awards than could possibly be listed here, but the overwhelming majority of them are from mainstream journalism organizations. As mentioned, our strength is built on our reporting and our appreciation of our community’s needs. You can see this same dynamic in the other successful LGBT publications across the nation. The Washington Blade, due to its proximity to the capital, breaks more national news than any other LGBT publication, and their local coverage of the marriage-equality movement should be studied in journalism schools. Chicago’s Windy City Times and its publisher Tracy Baim pulled out of their files a questionnaire that a state senator by the name of Barack Obama had signed, stating that he supported marriage equality; they did this while he was president and publicly still evolving on the subject. That is the power of local newspapers. The Bay Area Reporter in San Francisco, along with the now-defunct New York Native, showed the rest of us how to cover AIDS, and do so professionally, even with the widespread anger surrounding the issue. Bay Windows in Boston played an important role in what would result in the first state with marriage equality. In Michigan, Pride Source staged what could be called the mother of all wedding expos, made a huge profit, and ended up with an e-mail list that would be the envy of any blog, website, or print publication. Their publishers Susan Horowitz and Jan Stevenson are pillars of our LGBT legacy.
LGBT publishing is awash with new publishers and new ideas. The Dallas Voice and Frontiers in Los Angeles are pioneering the integration of print and web in what will become the new LGBT media, each with a different viewpoint and style. While they do this, they still foster hard news reporting by writers like Karen Ocamb. The South Florida Gay News keeps reinventing itself as all media must do in a time of change, and in Portland, Oregon, Melanie Davis, a second-generation publisher with a long history of involvement with Latino media, has created Proud Queer magazine. Along with Chris Cash of Atlanta’s Georgia Voice and Lynne Brown of the Washington Blade, women constitute a major presence in today’s LGBT media.
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Like any industry, LGBT journalism has suffered low points. Our brothers and sisters who worked for a chain of LGBT newspapers owned by a company called Windows Media showed up at their offices one Monday and discovered that their publications had closed. At the time, Windows Media was the largest chain of publications for the LGBT community, and included the Washington Blade, Atlanta’s Southern Voice, David Magazine, 411 Magazine, and the South Florida Blade. In prior months, the same company also closed down Genre magazine and the online-only Houston Voice. To say this was the biggest failure in LGBT-media history is an understatement. But what does it say about LGBT media in general? The short answer: nothing.
While the media industry is going through changes, there are some basic publishing lessons that can be learned from this. In some ways, these developments make LGBT media even stronger. Those who were behind Windows Media had little idea how to market to this community and little understanding of the struggle for equality that some of us were covering on a daily basis. From the outside it appeared that journalism took a backseat to advertising. It also seemed like substantive articles played second fiddle to fashion and professional features or just plain fluff pieces. At one point, the Washington Blade had an escort featured as a columnist on the front page.
As a local paper your first line of advertisers should be the community itself, which should support its publication of record. Next are the gay-friendly businesses in gay neighborhoods and the non-gay businesses frequented by the LGBT community. Once those bases are covered, this should also cover your bottom line. Any national advertising is just icing. It seemed that Windows Media turned this strategy upside down.
Windows Media’s failure affected the employees of their publications and the cities they served, but not local publications elsewhere in the nation. New publications would rise in ea
ch of those markets since the communities were strong and loyal. In some of the markets the Windows employees themselves set up the new publications. This all shows growth in LGBT media. The best example is the Washington Blade. Lynne Brown and Kevin Naff took it from the trash can that Windows had left it in, and have brought it back even better than it was before. Chris Cash has likewise revived a publication in Atlanta, the Georgia Voice.
Media, whether it be newspapers, TV, radio, movies, magazines, or the Internet, continuously evolves. One example pertains to young people. Due to the success of our community’s efforts, LGBT youth are coming out at a younger age. Many organizations have popped up to deal with their needs but few publications have given them a voice. Jen Coletta at our paper decided to try amplifying their voices by featuring a quarterly supplement written and edited by LGBT youth. They decide on the content themselves and do almost everything to get their stories ready for publication other than the final edit and layout, which is left to the professionals in our offices. This has served various purposes. In addition to allowing their voices to be heard, it provides an opportunity to work in the publishing business. Worst-case scenario: this experience becomes past employment on their resumes.
The aging gay and lesbian community is a topic that we address as well, via a supplement for seniors. As our community ages and we begin to deal with the first out generation of seniors, there are unique issues of ageism that can be urgent.
PGN also spearheaded an alliance with other multicultural publications in our region to seek advertising that would normally go to mainstream print media. Along with several members of the African American regional media, Asian publications, the Jewish Exponent, and El Día, the leading Spanish-language publication, we’ve created a united force. Our value to advertisers is strong in an ever-changing and diverse landscape as together our combined circulation is near that of mainstream print media. Forty years ago, none of these publications would have wanted to be associated with a gay newspaper. Now we’re one of the leaders of the coalition.
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On of my fondest memories from the early days was learning how to do my first newspaper promotion. A former pro football player by the name of Dave Kopay had recently come out and had published his autobiography, The David Kopay Story: An Extraordinary Self-Revelation, cowritten with Perry Deane Young. He was doing a book tour and had arranged with his publisher that Philadelphia Gay News would host a cocktail party.
It was the first such event we’d put together so we wanted it to be a success. This meant a packed house and publicity for the paper and Kopay’s book. We arranged for a venue called The Steps to let us use their space during an afternoon when it was not usually open. In exchange we gave them some free advertising. We invited LGBT leaders, business and government people, some folks from the pro sports teams in Philly (quietly), the press, of course, and our own friends and families.
The Steps had an upstairs bar with a balcony. With the entire party on the ground floor, I stepped out onto the balcony when the time was right to introduce Kopay. I welcomed all the elected officials in the audience by name, and read the introduction that the publisher had prepared for me. Then I concluded, “Ladies and gentleman, please welcome Dave Kopay!”
He took the microphone and spoke so softly that no one could hear him. He looked nervous. Later, I found out that this was one of the first times he had to address this type of crowd and it was the largest audience of his tour. Unable to hear him, the people began to mingle and we were losing control of the room. At that moment, my four-foot-seven grandmother decided to act. Standing in the middle of the audience, she put her fist in the air and shouted, “Right on, Dave!” And she repeated it, “Right on, Dave!” and then again. She kept going until everyone was shouting along with her. Grandmom, my Auntie Mame, once again saved the day.
It was an exciting, heady period. Things were humming along. We were helping invent a microprofession we termed advocacy journalism at a time when little was known about this. Exhausted but elated, every night I’d return home to Mom and Grandmom. I’d spend as many evenings at home as possible and I still cherished every second sitting on the couch with my family.
Chapter 7
Tits and Ass
In early 1978, Mom wasn’t getting out much due to dialysis. The drugs she was taking had her staying close to home most of the time; the hospital had given her a beeper in case a donor kidney became available. And she couldn’t shake the cold of the winter. Unable to get warm no matter how hot the house was or how many sweaters or blankets she had, she never complained and still attempted to cook dinner each night. Mom loved cooking for my brother and me and she certainly loved our appreciation of her time at the stove. But to be honest, she wasn’t a good cook. Her beef was always well done and very dry, her tomato sauce, of which we always requested seconds, was so heavy that antacids were required quickly after the meal. (She never understood why we headed for the bathroom directly after having her spaghetti sauce.) Her meatballs, however, were a bouncy delight. They were more like matzo balls then meatballs. But ever since we were little boys, we were always told by Dad that Mom took pride in her cooking and that we should never say anything that might upset her. So we ate, and we loved it, knowing that this made her happy. What’s a little indigestion among family?
The newspaper was beginning to make money at that time. To celebrate and to try to get Mom’s spirits up, I decided to take my parents to a restaurant and a show. The restaurant’s name I don’t recall, but the show was A Chorus Line. I had recently interviewed the show’s author, James Kirkwood Jr., who had offered me tickets anytime I wanted, so we went to the theater and Mom was delighted just to be out and about.
During the show I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. It was so important that she enjoy herself. Any misgivings I might have had vanished with her first smile, during the second number. After that, she laughed and smiled throughout the evening. Dad and I could feel it and that was magic enough for us. Despite my love of musicals and eagerness to see the show, that night I was focused only on her.
As we left the theater I asked Mom what song she liked best. She looked at me with a sheepish grin on her face, and in the tiniest of whispers she said, “Tits and Ass.” She put her hand over her mouth in embarrassment. Dad almost fell over in laughter and he and I just started to howl. Even Mom joined in. For her to say “Tits and Ass” was simply earth-shattering. But as the laughter was dying down, the hospital beeper went off. Then she said it again: “Tits and Ass.” This time none of us laughed.
We called her doctor and were told she had to come in right away. We hurried home, she put a few things together, and off to the hospital we went, along with Grandmom and Uncle Stan. We were told that since it was so late, the kidney transplant operation was set for the next afternoon. Mom stayed the night and we all returned the following morning. For the first time in my life I saw my mom nervous. This was the mom who went to battle for me over “Onward, Christian Soldiers,” the mom who bought me a shiny red train set when we had no money, the mom who went on the Phil Donahue Show and walked in gay pride parades. I wasn’t as strong as she was. All I could do was be present and tell her it would all work out. I know I was trying to believe that myself.
This was a dread that I had never felt before. My mother was about to go under the knife for an operation that the doctors explained was very serious, very risky, but necessary. Further complicating things was that at this time in medical history, rejection of transplanted organs was a 50/50 proposition.
Mom tried to look brave. She kept any fears in the back of her mind and remained her gentle self, trying to reassure us, as she was readied for the operating room that afternoon. We hugged her and watched as a nurse pushed her through the double doors and down a long, dark hallway leading to the operating room. Then we were all ushered into the waiting area. We sat there as the quiet hours ticked by slowly, only intermittently interrupted by a nurse or doctor who would come out with pre
pared statements like, “It’s going as planned.”
Somewhere during that long night Grandmom became silent. When any of us would ask her something she’d just nod. No one thought anything of it at the time, we were all just worrying about my mother on the operating table. Very late in the evening, or perhaps early the next day, the doctor came out and told us the operation had gone “as well as expected.” When pressed, he simply stated: “Now we’ll see if her body accepts or rejects the kidney.” He sounded more like he was building a car engine than transplanting a kidney. It left me with a sinking feeling. He suggested that we go home since she was in isolation. There was not a word spoken on the entire ride back.
I awoke the following morning to a gloomy winter day and immediately felt something wasn’t right. When I got downstairs my father called me over and said, “We think Grandmom is sick.” The pressure had gotten to her, and she still wasn’t talking. Uncle Stan arranged to take Grandmom to her doctor while my father and I went to the hospital. Mom remained on a ventilator and had numerous transfusions going at the same time. She was very woozy, but we wanted her to know she made it through the operation and we were there with her. She looked as if she desperately wanted to talk with us, and it frustrated her that the tube down her throat prevented her from doing so. The hospital didn’t allow much time since they were afraid of germs being brought in from outsiders. So we went home to get a report on our other sick family member.
Grandmom’s doctor could find nothing wrong with her and suggested that it was merely nerves and depression due to Mom’s hospitalization. When things settled down with my mother, most likely Grandmom’s “depression” would pass. He didn’t even give her any medication. Just a pat on the back, accompanied by unhelpful reassurances.
As the days wore on and as Mom’s condition improved, we were able to visit her more often and for longer hours. Every time she saw me she’d ask how the paper was doing. I appointed myself comedian-in-chief and tried as often as possible to get her to laugh. All I had to say was, “Tits and Ass.” She’d put her hand to her mouth so we couldn’t see that she was smiling in embarrassment.