Grand
Marshal in Memoriam
Richard Wiederholt
“You’ll
be in our heart...always.”
By Ann Walton Sieber
 Richard
Wiederholt with grandson Sean: “You find meaning
in your life and you find a purpose and you find value.
I think that summarizes why we’re here. But each
of us has to find that out for ourselves.”
Richard Wiederholt’s time on earth was filled with
new beginnings, angels, dreams sought and dreams found,
and practically as many lives as a cat. Richard was
an angel to the community himself, which is why he was
elected this year’s male Pride grand marshal, and
why “the lights along Westhiemer will shine a little
dimmer” since Richard passed away on April 28,
at age 56, just six weeks before he was due to ride
in the parade with his pride, grandson Sean, on his
lap.
In talking to those who loved Richard, some common themes
emerge: his gregarious positive attitude; his love for
his daughter and his grandson; his tendency to drive
on the sidewalks by the Seawall in Galveston; his ever-pressing
interest in teaching others and helping the community.
“I
have awakened to my world,” Richard wrote in an
essay, quoting from a song written by a friend of his.
“Please wake up to yours.”
Richard was the youngest in a close-knit northern Missouri
farm family; they grew most of their food, including
the cows from which they got their beef. Richard married,
had a daughter, Karie, and became a teacher and then
school principal in Missouri and Iowa. He moved to Houston,
continuing his career in education, eventually becoming
chairman of the Educational Leadership Department at
the University of Houston-Clear Lake.
But by that time, one of his new lives was working its
way to the surface, and he resigned his job in 1982.
“Leaving
education was a difficult decision to make,” he
wrote, “but leading a closeted personal life was
more difficult. I’m a people-oriented person and
I have a need to share my personal experiences at work
and my work experiences at home.”
According to his sister Pat O’Connor, Richard’s
dream had always been to open a retail clothing store.
Basic Brothers started as a vintage clothing outlet.
Pat remembers that whenever she came to visit, she’d
have to get up early to go to garage sales with Richard
and his partner, Jerry Prox, to buy up 501 jeans, which
they’d wash, iron, and size. So Richard got his
store, while Jerry, who had quit his job as an engineer,
started his own line of swimwear, Hot Lines.
Basic Brothers (“your out and proud clothing store”)
and Hot Lines thrived, providing a hub for community
happenings.
“We
became the headquarters of not just the Pride stuff,
but the information source for everything,” says
Ken Claude, Basic Brothers vice president and Dick’s
longtime friend and collaborator in good deeds and mischief.
“People would call and say, ‘Do you know who
has tickets to the Garden Party?’ or ‘Is BCBC
doing a New Year Eve’s thing?’ and so on.
There’s a lot of the community that doesn’t
go to the bars, and this was before Crossroads and Lobo.”
But then, in 1987, Jerry became very ill with AIDS and
died. Within the space of three months, Richard also
lost his mother, his best friend, and found out that
he himself was HIV positive.
In the aftermath, Richard started becoming much more
active in the community. To list all his activities
would take up this entire page, but he played prominent
roles in the Gay and Lesbian Chamber, Body Positive,
the Mr. Gay All-American Contest, the Garden Party,
among many others, as well as visiting schools to teach
students about AIDS.
“He
encouraged all of us [at Basic Brothers] to work out
in the community in addition to working in the store,”
Ken says. “He especially wanted to make sure all
the youth who were coming out had all the resources
and knowledge they needed to come out right.”
“We
were the grandpa and grandma of Montrose,” says
Marion Coleman, who was often Richard’s cohort
on the many community boards. “We didn’t consider
ourselves to be leaders, we always saw ourselves as
part of the community. It was more compassion for what
we were and where we were and what we need to be.”
In 1996, he got liver toxicity from the protease inhibitors.
Richard was admitted to the hospital, where both his
liver and kidneys suddenly crashed. The doctors admitted
they didn’t know what to do. What happened next
was so dramatic that Barbara Rommer interviewed him
for her book about near-death experiences, Blessing
in Disguise, which came out in April, and is already
in its second printing. Using the pseudonym “Rudolf”
for Richard, this is an excerpt from the account she
published:
“I
was in the hospital bed...and suddenly there was this
harsh sound like the roof was being moved. I was surrounded
by smoke...and engulfed in the flames.... It was the
scariest thing!... Then, as quickly, I was immediately
transported to this other very peaceful, real bright
place and there was this angel there.... I felt love
from her. I felt peaceful. She said: ‘We want you
to go back.’ I asked her why.... She said: ‘Even
though you are no longer a formal teacher at the university,
everyone you touch you teach and you are going to be
touching a lot of people. That’s your purpose.
Go back and teach and love people and just be yourself.’
“Then
I was in yet another place again, very peaceful....When
[Jerry] died he looked very ill, very emaciated. But
there he was and he was an angel.... He said: ‘Rudie,
you can’t stay. You’re not finished. You have
too much to do there.’ He told me: ‘You’re
on earth for a very short time. Where you are going
afterward you will be going forever, so enjoy what you
can while you are on earth.’... He told me to enjoy
my grandson and let him get to know me.... I told him:
‘I don’t think I have the energy to go back.’
...At that point I clutched my chest, not with pain,
but it was this burst of energy in my chest, my heart,
and then I was back in the hospital bed.”
When Richard awoke, his kidney failure was gone, although
the doctors had done nothing.
Richard had three near-death experiences, but returned
to live with a renewed sense of purpose. And good thing,
for not long after, he met Ian Leffler, and they were
joined in a holy union in April last year. “I saw
Richard when he was the happiest,” Marion says.
“He just looked so happy when he was with Ian.”
Richard Wiederholt spent his life doing just as the
angel had instructed him: He taught others, he loved
people, and he was himself. When we’re marching
in the Pride Parade, Richard, you’ll be there with
us.
A
beautiful memorial webpage has been set up for Richard,
where friends and community members can view and sign
a guestbook. Go to the Basic Brothers webpage at
www.basicbrothers.com and click on
http://www.tikar.com:8080/richard.
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