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Ray
Hill in Love
Falling in Love Again: Montrose's grizzled gadfly recounts
the loves of his life ... and of all our lives
by Ann Walton Sieber
If
Ray Hill were not a real man, it would be impossible
to create him as a work of fiction for fear of sounding
preposterous. "Ray Hill is a many-faceted gem," as he'll
tell you, only half-ironically, and it's true.
His
grizzled generous self knows everything there is to
know about the Montrose gay community and politics,
about prison and criminal justice issues, and about
the euphemistically termed "sex industry." Quoting activist
theory and Supreme Court judgments one moment, recounting
a salacious encounter while cruising the Ship Channel
the next, Ray is one of those fascinating self-created
icons, an ebullient appealing ham, always happy to fill
you in on the latest cause (the current latest cause
being the Exxon-Mobil protest, for which Ray is one
of the organizers), his bluntness both exasperating
and endearing.
Now
Ray is further perpetuating the Ray Hill myth with his
latest monologue, Ray Hill and Love, to be performed
one night only, on February 14, Valentine's Day, at
Stages. This is the third installment in a series ("It's
really just a cheap easy way to do a memoir"), the first
two being Ray Hill: The Prison Years, and Ray Hill &
the Sex Police. Ray presented his first monologue at
Actor's Workshop and The Little Room Downstairs in 20
performances, and the second piece upstairs at Diba's
One's a Meal on West Gray for 11 performances. The Stages
production is a step into the "big time," part of Stages'
artistic director Rob Bundy's opening up of his swank
facility to smaller theater groups. Produced by Diana
Weeks, the show will benefit her newly formed non-profit
Art Action, whose goal is to get more art in the news
and into the mainstream consciousness.
Ray
Hill and Love is "the story of six wonderful men in
my life," Ray says. "Being gay and lesbian gives us
the chance to be very creative with out lives. We're
constantly constructing our lives."
Just
like everything else in Ray's life, the inventory of
his lovers make for an interesting tale. From his first
great love, Kenneth Whitehead, much better known as
Tiffany Jones, the renowned "Texas Tornado" drag queen
in the '70s, who used to come out into the audience
dressed as a nun on roller skates; to Dale "Fluffy"
Sweat, a demure country boy from Lufkin who restored
Ray's sense of himself after Ray got out of the penitentiary;
to the Reverend Kent Naasz, a Lutheran minister ("I
was a callused old atheist ex-teenage evangelist, and
Kent could cut through all that"). As Ray spins the
tale of his lovers, it's not just about six men, but
also about the times and events that transpired around
those loves.
Those
who know Ray will want to see his show because you know
what a irascible storytelling phenomenon he is, an amazing
assortment of insider information and devilish quips.
"Not a cliché the whole evening," Edward Albee
said of Ray's Sex Police monologue. And if you don't
know Ray, you should go, not just because he's so interesting,
but because he's a one-man guided tour of the Montrose,
the real Montrose, and the Houston gay community over
the past 40 or so years.
For
those unfamiliar with the Ray Hill legend, he grew up
in Houston, and came out in the Galena Park High School
in 1958, which should give you some idea of his gutsiness
right there. Always active in gay politics, he was sent
to prison from 1970-1975 as a result of his "night job,"
in which he was part of a gay burglary ring. ("We stole
antiques, oils, and jewels--the money was good, and
we specialized in things that queers know about. The
only thing wrong is the retirement system ... I took
full retirement.") After he got out of the pen, he became
general manager of KPFT Pacifica. Only problem was that
"neither perverts nor convicted felons could be on the
air waves--and I was both"; Ray successfully challenged
this FCC rule, becoming both the first openly gay person
and the first ex-con to manage a broadcast facility.
While managing the station, Ray started "The Prison
Show." Still running every Friday night, 9-11 p.m.,
after 20 years, his show and its unusual format has
become recognized throughout the country. After an hour
of Ray and company discussing criminal justice issues,
he opens up the phones, and families of inmates call
in; for those inmates who have been shipped to facilities
at a great distance from their families, "The Prison
Show" is oftentimes their only way to communicate.
On
January 27, Ray was awarded the First Amendment award
by the Houston Trial Lawyers' Foundation, an honor given
by the civil lawyers association to members of the media
who best exemplify the exercise of the first amendment.
("Funny, I'll be up in that building getting a fancy
award one night, and the next day at the foot of the
same building staging a protest," Ray said, referring
to the January 27 Equality Rally against Exxon-Mobil.)
Approaching 60, Ray's been having diabetes-related problems
with his foot lately. Although he wears a cast and may
have to have it amputated, the day we met to talk, he
roared up to Crossroads Market on his motorcycle. Still
roaring away after all these years, Ray says part of
the motivation for his monologues is to let the up-and-coming
gay generation know about the continued exuberant possibilities
of life.
"When
I was young and pretty," Ray says, "back then, I didn't
think I'd make it to the new millennium. But today life
is so rich--I didn't have a hint. I paint word pictures
of the life I've lived and I'm living, so they [those
currently young and pretty] won't fear living long enough
and being lucky enough to become a senior. ...Although
I suspect only old farts will come."
Does
the foot get him down?
"I
was already mentally qualified for the Special Olympics.
I decided to get on with it. Life is like a golf game--you
play the ball where it lies. If it lands in the rough,
whack at it until you hit it."
Ray
Hill and Love was presented on Tuesday, February
14, 8 p.m. at Stages. It was a rousing success.
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