Nobody Gets Out of Here Alive

Patrick Gourley has seen enough death from AIDS. Now it�s time for rebirth.

Comments (0) By Steve Jackson Thursday, Mar 2 2000

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Gourley liked the idea of going to the sanctuary himself. Maybe it was the old farm kid in him, but he saw himself working in the fields and participating in the great debates to feed both the bodies and the minds of his brothers. He wasn't quite as optimistic as Hay about straight society recognizing gays' attributes and welcoming them with open arms, but it was a nice dream.

For years the idea of a sanctuary had lain dormant in the mind of Hay, who thought the gay community was too absorbed in sexual liberation. But now he thought the second gathering would be the right forum to reveal his plan. Gourley had plenty of help from other activists such as Phil Nash and Tim Offutt, one of the rare "out" members of the gay black community, working out the logistics. His best friend, Don Gorman, who nearly a year earlier had brought him down out of the bad mushroom trip, did the art for the flier -- a mandala with its concentric rings depicting mountains, mushrooms, dancing stick figures and flying fairies tooting horns. For the front of the "tips" flier, he drew a man looking through a kaleidoscope at another mandala, a tribute to Hay and Burnside who, in Los Angeles during the Summer of Love, had owned a factory that made kaleidoscopes to sell to hippies. Of the two, Gourley was the more political and, if not for the balance Gorman brought to their friendship, could have easily tipped into reactionary politics, where everything is black and white and issues are placed over humanity. But Gourley could always count on Gorman's ability to put things into perspective. Oh, Blanche, sit down and do your nails, he'd say when Gourley climbed on his horse. But it was possibly what they didn't do that had the most profound effect on Gourley: Despite their closeness, they were never lovers. It wasn't about sex.

Fifty-one and counting: Patrick Gourley, head of nursing at the Infectious Diseases Clinic at Denver Health Medical Center.

Queer theory: Patrick Gourley (right) with Harry Hay, from whom he got his "Ph.D. in Queerdom."

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And while Gourley was fond of saying that he got his nursing degree from University Hospital and his "Ph.D. in Queerdom" from Harry Hay, he had a difficult time getting his mentor to discuss his concern about gays' hedonistic sexual behavior. Hay found discussions about sexual behavior counterproductive to his principle theme that being gay was more than "where you put your dick." He was fond of shocking listeners by declaring, with a twist on the old gay adage, "We have nothing in common with straight people except for what we do in bed." In one of the rare times he did discuss sexuality with Gourley, Hay noted that gay men's behavior had changed radically over the years: They now had more anal sex, in part because of the opportunity provided by the bathhouses.

That was one of the reasons Gourley noted on a flier for the gathering that "the fairies planning the gathering ask that there be no drug or alcohol use on the site." They wanted to remove the gathering -- physically and psychologically -- as far as possible from the party scene that defined the liberated gay lifestyle of the '70s.

The campsite permit forced them to limit the number of participants to 300, some of whom arrived in Denver early and headed for Gourley's home in Five Points, where Hay and Walker were soon leading discussions. The other participants arrived, coming from major metropolitan areas and small towns all over the country; there were even a few from Canada. All were taken to the fifteen-acre campsite at the end of a box canyon where Gourley's two tents were set up near a large fire pit.

The evenings were social and spiritual in nature. Taking their cue from the lesbians, who Gourley joked with friends were a "more highly evolved life form than gay men," there were a lot of pagan and wiccan influences in their rituals, a lot of evoking the "Great Mother" and worshiping nature. The weather -- which had been alternately cloudy and rainy -- put a damper on another mud ritual (making Gourley glad that he'd warned participants that at 8,000 feet, even in summer, it was a good idea to bring down coats and rain gear in addition to "your entire wardrobe of flowing non-hetero garb"). A big hit was the drumming and dancing, which reached its peak when Offutt appeared on a hillside one evening dressed from head to toe in a magnificent buckskin outfit, pounding on a large drum. Soon participants were dancing around the fire like wildmen.

The days had their hours for hiking, quiet contemplation and simply building a sense of community by networking with like-minded gay men from all over the country. There were, of course, several "fairy circles," in which the men would gather to discuss issues, some dressed in dresses and skirts or nothing at all. The workshops dealt with more serious matters. The idea of the gay sanctuary was a big hit and, while not everyone agreed on how best to go about it, the consensus was that the gay community needed to move beyond sex as the issue that defined gay culture both to themselves and the straight world. There were also discussions about health concerns and the relationship to the bathhouse scene.