Your Community Clinic Mission Statement
Every person that walks through our door
will be treated with dignity and respect.
There will be no judgment as to their
appearance or station in life.
Their health and wellbeing will
be our only concern.
They will be treated with
kindness and compassion.
When they leave our premises,
they will know-
They are always welcome to come back
We hired a chief doctor for the clinic, three doctors on rotation, three nurses, two clerks, an office manager, and several volunteers. This was in addition to the interns from the university. We were now ready to open. The inspector gave us approval to open on Monday the 29th of May, 1978.
Arthur called a friend of his at the San Francisco Examiner and gave him the heads up on the grand opening of the clinic. The reporter called me and arranged for an interview. Our story appeared on the front page of the Sunday San Francisco Examiner, just below the fold, the day before the opening. The article put a spotlight on the need in the area and what we wanted to accomplish. "The clinic is being financed by a new philanthropic group, The Sebastian Montgomery Community Foundation." I sat back on the sofa, enjoying my coffee with Andy, while Isaac sat in an arm chair and read the article out loud. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"If the name sounds familiar to you, it may be because he is the youngest son of the conservative and wealthy Montgomery family of New York and Connecticut. Sebastian Montgomery was once a well-known gay playboy in New York City. He has now settled into a quiet and philanthropic life here in San Francisco. The following interview tells of his life since moving to our fair city."
I was extremely candid in the interview. I talked to Isaac and Andy, asking how open I should be about our relationship, and they said to tell them anything I wanted. So I did. I told the newspaper how I met Isaac, how Andy was gay bashed, and Isaac and I took him in and obtained guardianship. Our plans for his education and his desire to be an artist and how we fully supported his plans. When the reporter asked when I last talked to my family, I said I hadn't spoken to them since before I moved to California. The reporter looked at me with surprise when I answered and followed up with a reasonable question of whether I was in contact with them. I was candid when I answered. "I rarely saw them growing up, and I saw them even less as an adult, so it is hard to miss family I hardly knew." One aspect I stressed during the interview was that I wanted my foundation to focus on those underserved by public services, such as the runaway and abandoned youth, especially gay youth tossed out by their families, and people in need of medical services that are indigent or have no identity papers.
When Isaac finished the article, he set the paper down and fanned himself with his hand. "Your parents will have a cow when they see that. What are you going to do?"
"What do you mean?"
Andy almost choked on his coffee. "What do you mean? Your parents seem like real tight asses from what you've said about them before. You think they are going to sit back and let you say all that and be quiet?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "It's my life. I gave my opinions, and that's all there is to it. My parents were never around. I was left with nannies just like my brother. I barely saw them except at dinner if they were home. If I embarrassed them somehow, they berated me in person; that's when I saw them. I rarely saw them after I moved out." I grabbed the coffee pot off the tray, poured, added more cream and sugar, and sat back. "It may embarrass them, but there's nothing they can do about it, and I don't give a crap what they think. The only people whose opinion I care about are in my life right now."
Andy headed up to Abby's to help arrange a backdrop she borrowed for a sitting with a model that was arriving on Monday. Isaac and I curled up on the sofa and watched an old movie on TV. Just before the movie was over, the phone rang and Isaac tried to persuade me to let the machine answer, but I had an inkling I knew who it was based on the time difference. Moving to the arm chair I picked up the receiver. The first thing I heard was the familiar blast of my father's voice. "The doctor just left. He had to sedate your mother after the scandal in the paper this morning."
I looked over at Isaac and rolled my eyes. "Good morning, father. I see you found my telephone number."
"Yes. It took quite a few phone calls and pulling in favors as your number is unlisted. How could you cause such an embarrassment to your family with this reckless behavior? Dragging the family name through the mud with your deviant lifestyle in the newspapers. Telling the newspapers about our private lives and exposing us to such public ridicule."
I put my hand over the mouthpiece during his diatribe. "This might be brief or take a while. It depends on how much I want to piss him off, and if he hangs up."
Isaac picked up the coffee pot. "Would you like me to make a fresh pot?"
"How about you heat my cup up in the microwave and add a touch of brandy? After this is over, I think I may need it." I sat down in the arm chair. I was no longer afraid of my father's rebukes. "Are you done, father?"
"Hardly." He sounded surprised. "What have you to say for yourself?" He returned to his authoritative tone that used to intimidate me, but no more.
"Well. Number one. I am an adult."
He sputtered. "Now…"
"Don't interrupt me. It is my turn to speak. I spoke the truth. This is my life and you no longer have any say in it. What I spoke of my childhood was the unvarnished truth. If you did not like what I said that is your problem. If you do not like who I am that is your problem. You haven't kept in contact with me, and I am fine with that. If you have nothing more to say, then this conversation is over."
I waited, and the line was quiet. Whether it was from his being angry or shocked, I couldn't care less. I hung up the phone. Letting out a sigh, I shut my eyes and leaned back in the chair. I heard a gentle clapping and opened my eyes to see Isaac sitting on the sofa with a huge grin plastered on his face. He stretched his arms out with his hands beckoning me to join him.
"My wonderful, beautiful man. Sebby, you were magnificent. I am so proud of you. Your coffee can wait."
*****
The opening of the clinic on Monday made most of the local news channels. I knew it was because of my name and not the clinic, but I didn't care. It still got the clinic in the news, and that was the important thing. I said a few words and stepped aside as the local city supervisor was gracious enough to cut the ribbon to open the clinic. It felt good to give back to the city I called home. I found the love of my life here, I had a family, and now I found a purpose. The money that was building interest for me now had a use.
I had to make a speech, and that was terrifying. Isaac and Arthur helped with that. I pointed out, as I stood before the crowd, that no one seeking help would be turned away. If you could pay, we hoped you would; if you could not, the service was free. If you did not want to provide personal information, it was not required, but medical information would still be required for treatment. Lastly, because of the law, and because we wanted to treat everyone in the community, we would abide by the law and if someone were to appear for treatment of a gunshot wound, or anything else that would require reporting to the authorities, we would.
Another important announcement was for those who had children. Several times a year the clinic would provide free vaccinations to anyone that wanted them. This would be during flu season, for measles, and any other vaccine normally provided by a doctor's office when recommended. I let everyone know that soon we would also be open twenty-four hours for emergency services, but that nighttime hours would only be for emergency services.
There were a lot of well-wishers and tours that morning, and more questions than I could have ever expected. I couldn't believe the response to what we had done, and it felt overwhelming.
When it was noon, I took a taxi to the office and Mrs. Dandridge was just a bit harried, but
all smiles. "Mr. Montgomery the phone has been ringing all morning. There is a pile of messages on your desk and several deliveries of flowers and lots of other things congratulating you on the opening of the clinic."
I was flabbergasted by the news.
"I have messages from several companies that would like to talk to you about sponsorships. They would like information about what services and programs the clinic will be offering."
"They should call the clinic once it is open. For the first week, we will take the calls here because I am sure the clinic will be busy. After that, refer them to the clinic's number."
When I entered my office, there were floral arrangements and bottles of wine everywhere. Boxes of chocolate, and several wrapped packages. I sat down and sorted through the messages for those I needed to call right back, and those that required attention, like the ones requesting information about what services the clinic provided. I needed to put together a full profile of the clinic, along with our mission statement, and send it to a reputable printer. Well, I guess I will need to turn in my resignation at the museum. Isaac was right.
That evening, Abby took Andy to another exhibit opening and Isaac and I had the house to ourselves. I was stretched out on the sofa, my head in Isaac's lap as he stroked my hair. There was a pleasant silence in the room and I felt cocooned in his love. "Isaac, you were right. I'm stopping by the museum tomorrow and turning in my resignation. There is too much to do in getting the foundation off the ground."
"I'm glad. I knew there would be a lot of work. Do you mind if I change the subject?"
"There's something I've been meaning to ask you."
"What?"
"I've never asked before because it never really made a difference until now. That was a lot of money you gave to the foundation."
"Not for me." This conversation was long overdue, but my Isaac was the one that had to ask. I wondered why he never asked before. He knew I had money, but not how much, and it didn't matter to him. But until the other day, I don't think he ever thought about it. I was always careful with my spending. This was the first time I ever made a serious dip into my trust fund. I knew in my heart it would never make a difference between us, but there was just the tiniest bit of worry how he might react.
"How much money do you have? You don't need to tell me if you don't want to."
"Isaac, you have every right to know, and I only waited for you to ask. Well, how can I put this? I'm not as wealthy as a Du Pont. I don't have as much as the late J. Paul Getty did, but I could say I am close."
"You're shitting me!"
Well, he took it better than I expected. Shocked. Yes. At least he didn't bolt upright. I might have fallen on the floor. I didn't look up at him then. "Yes, that much."
"Really?"
"Yes, Isaac. But the truth is, we are that rich. You and me, Isaac. What I have is yours."
His voice was lower now, and I dared to look up. His eyes were wide. "Sebastian."
"Yes, Isaac. I want to share it with you."
"Sebastian, I… I can't. That's too much. I just can't."
"Please. Isaac, please think about it. Don't say no yet."
"No promises. I won't say yes, but I won't say no, yet."
He gave me a half-hearted smile, and I laid my head back in his lap, gazing up at him. I hoped my next words wouldn't push things too far. I knew it frustrated him at the legal aid center. "Isaac. You are my partner in life, in everything. You don't have to work if you don't want to. If you want to share my life at the foundation, you can. Remember that conversation we had a while back in the bedroom about how you felt you weren't helping enough? You could do a lot with your ideas at the foundation. Just think about it. It doesn't have to be there. You can choose your own path. Just like we let Andy choose his own."
"I have to think about it." He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "Thank you."
All I could think of was how everything I had now in my life was because of him. How could I thank him for the changes he has brought into my life? All I was doing was giving back.
*****
He continued to stroke my hair, but I knew his mind was elsewhere. His eyes looked out the window but were not focused there. He was somewhere else, thinking. His life hadn't been easy. Drug-addicted parents who he found overdosed, a foster family who cared about him but sent him away when they found out he was gay. He made his way here and built this life on his own. Now he wanted to help others. He was a giving and caring man. I wanted to help him accomplish those goals he has been working so hard for all his life. But he had to arrive at that decision on his own.
We stayed on the sofa for the rest of the afternoon. I didn't want to disturb his thoughts, and I was content in his lap. When Andy arrived, he was alone. Abby had gone upstairs to change for dinner with new friends she had met at the opening. Seeing how quiet we were, he offered to make spaghetti.
Conversation was minimal over dinner and I watched as Andy kept looking between myself and Isaac. Isaac was absorbed in thought and Andy was about to say something when I put my finger to my lips and shook my head. When dinner was over, he offered to clear the table. Isaac and I moved to the living room, and he sat on the sofa. I was at a loss and stood over him.
"Would you like a glass of wine or some coffee?"
He looked up at me and gave me a brief smile. "No, thank you. I'm fine. Just thinking."
Andy came out of the kitchen and looked at me. "I know you don't want me to say anything but this is freaking me out. What's going on with you two?"
"Andy…" Isaac grabbed my hand.
"Andy, everything is fine with us. I've had a lot on my mind this afternoon. Sebastian made a suggestion and gave me a job offer this afternoon. I needed time to think it over. It would be a big change for me and I needed time to decide. I've decided to take him up on it, but not right away." Turning to me he smiled. "Once everything is smoothed out at the foundation and I can be a useful part of your operation, I'll join you there. I don't want to get in the way in the beginning. I also would like to help Marguerite in finding a replacement for me."
"Really?" My stomach was filling with butterflies and I wanted to jump in his lap. Instead, I made a pouting face with a disappointed sound at his saying I would have to wait. I knew he was right. Until everything was organized and settled down there wouldn't be much he could do. I already had the office manager and people I needed to help me. As things picked up, we had hired staff to ensure that we would be ready to handle the initial requests after the clinic opened. I wanted him around for moral support. I let out a dramatic sigh. "Okay. But I want to add your name to the foundation letterhead. We can run it together. We can accomplish so much."
"Slow down, princess. This is your project. I want to help, but it is your show. My position will be as an advisor. I'll make suggestions on things we can do. Maybe have an office next to you with a door connecting us so I have easy access." He winked.
Andy was still staring at us. "You mean you're leaving the legal aid office and going to work at the foundation Sebastian set up?"
"Yep!" Isaac was now grinning from ear to ear.
"That's so cool. I mean…, you'll be living together and working together. That's so cool."
"Well, that is in the future. First Sebastian has to settle into his position and then, once the foundation is up and running, I will resign from the center. So, it will be a little way off."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Andy is Growing Up
Isaac
That fall, Andy stepped through the doors of Lowell High School into the tenth grade. He acclimated to school with little difficulty even though he was a year older than most of the other students. It was much larger than his original high school, and a lot more diverse. Lowell High School was merit based compared to a normal high school, so the students were there because they wanted to be, not because it was a requirement. He found his clique with the art students and felt at home. His biggest difficulty was the structure of
the art classes. From Abby we learned that after the first week his teacher was more of an "oh, that's what you want to try", then they would do it. When he complained to Abby, she laughed and told him that was what she did when she taught, so he needed to get used to it.
I had now been with the foundation for three months and it was a major change. My biggest worry was if I was actually needed or if Sebastian was just trying to make a place for me. Well, it turned out I was actually helping. I was organizing proposals for projects and a sounding board for ideas. I felt useful. After the first few weeks I even started giving suggestions of my own.
In early November, The Briggs Initiative failed on the ballot. It would have barred us from being able to teach in California, among other limitations of our rights. We were ecstatic over the result. But the joy of that victory was short lived. Shortly after that on November 18th, we heard on the news about the mass suicide in Jonestown. Reverend Jim Jones had a church here known as the Peoples Temple. He relocated his congregation to Guyana. Some of the people in Reverend Jones' congregation worked on Harvey's campaign, but we didn't know any of them. A US Congressman sent to investigate was murdered before Jones ordered the mass suicide. The city and nation were stunned.
Then, only nine days later, just after 11 a.m., on November 27th, 1978, Tim, one of our office clerks, raised his voice and told everyone to quiet down. He had the radio quietly playing on his desk, and said there was to be an important announcement from City Hall.
I overheard him and stepped into the room to find out what was so important. I knew Sebastian was on a call with Arthur and had his door closed. The announcer stated that Board of Supervisors President Diane Feinstein was stepping up to the microphone. The announcer made a comment that she looked visibly shaken. "As President of the Board of Supervisors, it is my duty to make this announcement. Both Mayor Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk have been shot and killed. The suspect is Supervisor Dan White."
An Unexpected Gift Page 17