LANCE

Lance Loud was the first openly gay person I had ever seen. This was 1973, and even though Paul Lynde was in the center square and Liberace was tinkling his ivories, Lance actually said it: I am gay. Watching him in An American Family was quite an experience for a lonely 13-year-old kid in Flatbush and he triggered that cliched, every-gay-boy-has-it epiphany: I wasn’t alone.
His brothers Grant and Kevin were definitely better looking and I also remember hoping for more episodes of them sunning shirtless by the pool. I accepted that Lance was not attractive and way too effeminate for my sophisticated 13 year-old tastes. Still, I loved to watch him cavort with Andy Warhol; I loved it when he openly embrace his long-haired boyfriend, Christian, and they went to insane theatrical events at a place somewhere in the East Village called LaMama.
As far as role models went, Lance was as good as it got in 1973. This was long before adorable Mouse in Tales of the City, long before Ellen and Anne, Tom and Antonio, Roseanne’s lesbian kiss, even before Billy Crystal camping around on Soap. At that time, all we got was David Suskind talking to a group of transsexuals. I was grateful for Lance Loud and when I read that he died, I felt a real sadness.
Back when I was ten, I was so taken with him that I actually called up information and asked the operator for his number and address. He was listed.
Every day when I told my parents I was trying out for the soccer team (they were thrilled) I secretly took the D-train to Manhattan. I would stand for hours outside his run-down tenement hoping he and Christian would dance down the stoop on their way to someplace wonderful.
In my mind’s eye, I set the scene: I casually bump into him, tell him how much I like him on TV, and he whisks me away to the Factory and my real life begins.
Needless to say that never happened and I stopped my stalking after a few days.
Nonetheless, I still could watch him parade every week on TV and think about my life as an adult.
I read about Lance’s death in a gay on-line newsletter I get every morning. The next headline was about Larry Kramer and his liver transplant. I thought about lonely 13-year-old boys growing up today and was grateful they had people like Larry Kramer around. Not to mention Will and Grace. And Kevin Klein kissing Tom Selleck, and Queer as Folk and Six Feet Under. I had Lance. Not perfect, but he helped. It was a start.