GrooveOut I’m Still Dancing Stonewall? The birth of disco? The response to the AIDS crisis? Disco pioneer Mel Cheren was there. by Chris Sill

Gay Pride. Our annual celebration of who we are. Our chance to show the world how proud and strong we are as a community. Our time to remember that our battle is still raging on, and that history will be made.

Reading Mel Cheren’s Keep On Dancing: My Life and the Paradise Garage is an absorbing lesson in modern American gay history. From his firsthand account of the Stonewall Riots; to the creation of West End Records–the seminal disco record label that spawned classics like Karen Young’s "Hot Shot" and Taana Gardner’s "Work That Body"; to his involvement in what many call the greatest nightclub ever, the Paradise Garage; and his assistance with New York’s Gay Men’s Health Crisis Center, Cheren’s vital and passionate contributions to our history constitute their own history.

GrooveOut: Mel, I want to start in the 1960s–what was it like being a gay man in New York at that time?

Mel Cheren: Well, first of all, I came to New York from Boston, where I had just gotten out of the military. I had a job in Boston at a place called Colonial Papers Company, which was such torture to go to every day. It was doing inventory control for paintbrushes. But then my whole life changed through a trick I met in the park. I think it’s important that people remember that nothing happens by accident. After I met this person, he soon called me and told me there was a job opening in New York at a record company, doing inventory control.

Oh no! How ironic.

So I left Boston and that’s how my whole life changed. When I came to New York I was so in the closet and I didn’t see even a glimmer of light in the city. That’s just the way it was at that time. When I came to work at the company, I pretended I didn’t really know the guy who got me the job because he was known in the company as being gay.

Let’s move forward a little to Stonewall and the aftermath. You were so close to the actual scene.

It was really very frightening. Prior to that, the gays, we were subservient. If the police said jump, we jumped. The mafia owned every gay club and we got the worst service. We had no choice. But that night changed everything. A few people, especially lesbians and drag queens, just got so pissed off that they exploded. And even though I felt stronger with the large group that was gathering, I didn’t know what the hell the consequences would be.

Tell me about the rise of disco and your involvement in its birth.

People ask me if we knew what we were doing back then. We didn’t. We were doing what we had fun with. When I first got to Scepter Records I did production work, and I would go out at night to the Firehouse, [which] was like a community center where they had gay parties. I knew that the DJs only had 45s to play and they couldn’t do anything with those. The one big turning point at Scepter Records came when we traded with Bell Records "This Is the House Where Love Died" by First Choice for "We’re on the Right Track" by Ultra High Frequency. I approached the vice president about putting the instrumental on the B-side. He said people would think we were cheating them. I told him that DJs would give anything for it and finally convinced him to do it. We ended up getting the Trendsetter Award that year from Billboard Magazine, and the instrumental went on to become an industry standard. [Editor’s note: Cheren was also known as the innovator of the 12" single, beloved by DJs.]

In the book I love how you describe disco as feel-good music, being about celebration, and how the world caught on to that vibe.

You know, I preach every place I can get someone to listen to me that the music of the ’70s, which we call disco, was not disco at all. They call me the Godfather of Disco. I don’t know why. I never put out a disco record. My music was danceable R&B. When you look at the music of the ’70s, just look at the charts for proof. The top records on the R&B chart were the same records we were dancing to. Isaac Hayes "Shaft," Diana Ross "Ain’t No Mountain High Enough." Those were not disco records. They used the word disco because they were played in the discos. I don’t mind the term, but in this country people put down that term because they only thought of it as involving gays and blacks. And that’s when those idiots in Comiskey Park, Chicago, burned all those disco records. [In 1979, a Chicago radio station held a "Disco Record Demolition" between games at a White Sox double header in Comiskey Park. It got way out of hand as more than 100,000 records were destroyed and thousands of young rioters tore up the field, causing the police to be called in and the second game to be cancelled.]

I remember how sad I was about that.

The next day the whole record industry became paralyzed. You couldn’t even mention the word. It was a terrible mistake that we should have never allowed to happen. It only happened because the heavy metal people were jealous and frustrated because they could not get their records played because everything being played was what they called disco.

Do you think part of that reaction was because the straight rockers were intimidated?

Oh, absolutely! It happens the same way when a straight guy has a big problem with gays and gets so angry about it that he goes out and bashes and kills. A straight man who is secure in his sexuality has no problem with it whatsoever.

How did you see AIDS change everything in the ’80s?

We lived the ’70s and the early ’80s like every day was a party. We didn’t know that what brought life would bring death. And we were never thanked for being the guinea pigs that let the world know about the crisis. It would have taken 10 to 15 years more if the gay population in New York didn’t take notice of those early cases.

You were also instrumental in housing the GMHC.

I was involved with a small group of friends including Paul Popham who founded the Gay Men’s Health Crisis. We were all volunteers, but no one would rent to us because we had no money. Fortunately, I owned a building, which at the time was a rooming house. I gave the use of one room, then two, and eventually the whole building until they found a more suitable space. They were in my building from early 1982 to 1984. At the time the disease wasn’t called AIDS yet, it was called GRID, Gay Related Immune Deficiency.

Did you have any idea then of how bad things would become?

We thought that hopefully in a few months or a year everything would be okay. I never fathomed what happened. I put a plaque on my building so that maybe 100 years from today kids will see that it was the original home of the Gay Men’s Health Crisis. People asked me why I didn’t abbreviate it on the sign, but I wanted it that way, as part of gay history.

How important do you think gay history is?

History is very important. For example, let me tell you that years ago I went to The Advocate to try to get them to put Paul Popham on the cover. Not only was he the founder of the GMHC, he was a captain in the Green Beret. After he passed on, his mother told me that he got the Bronze Star for heroism for saving a whole platoon. The Advocate said that they did not understand what I was trying to do because he was only known in New York. I asked them when were we going to expect the straight people to recognize our heroes when we don’t recognize them ourselves? At Paul’s funeral, Matilda Krim, the head of amfAR (American Foundation for AIDS Research) at the time, said when the history books were written, Paul Popham would go down as a giant among men. Here’s a straight woman who knows and understands, and yet we ourselves don’t know.

It is hard especially for the youth in our community to learn about our history. You really have to read books like yours and others to learn. It’s not something you can just check out at the library.

I get letters from kids thanking me for the book because they want to know about our history.

What happened to the party and the music when AIDS hit?

Things changed so drastically. People from the Saint [disco] used to tell me that when they would send out invitations to parties, so many hundreds, even thousands, would be returned because the people were gone. It disseminated the whole gay scene. One of the hardest things I did in the book was to try and list the names of all my friends who died.

The ’90s showed signs of hope for an end to AIDS and somewhat of a return to the ways of the ’70s. It seemed like more people became more carefree sexually.

Yeah, people say that. The AIDS cocktail has been wonderful to help people return to life, but because of that, some people thought that they could go back to the way it was.

Now I don’t want to sound preachy because I was out there doing it too, and it may sound corny, but the reason I’m still here is that God gave me this second chance . . . and I can’t do enough to pay [it] back. I know that if I don’t keep doing what I’m doing over and over again [with education and charity work], when I get up there, my friends who are gone are going to kick my ass.

This month is Gay Pride. What makes you proud about today’s gay community?

I’m proud of the fact that people are becoming more open. There are a lot of wonderfully committed people in our community. I guess I just wish that more people could see them. I wish that we could have a national gay cable network so we could get our message across. One of the things that I’m determined to do is to make a recording like "We Are the World" with gay and straight performers to the old song "Born This Way" by Carl Bean. There’s no doubt in my mind from being around all these years that we are born gay, like we are born right- or left-handed.

It could be our new gay anthem! Since it is pride month, what are your picks for all-time gay pride anthems?

You know, the only ones I can think of are Gloria Gaynor’s "I Will Survive," "I Am What I Am," MFSB’S "Love Is the Message" and "I Was Born This Way."

I would have to agree with all of those and add C&C Music Factory’s remake of "Pride."

And "Free" by Ultra Nate.

Yes! What do you tell young people today about pride?

Well, a lot of people ask me why I wrote the book. The one reason that keeps coming back to me is that all the friends I lost were mentors to young kids. Now there’s a whole generation that doesn’t have that one-on-one mentoring because there are so few left from my generation. The book is not the best substitute, but if younger people can learn from my mistakes–and there were many–and from the good things, then so be it. I tell kids that they should be proud of who they are. I believe that God said to leave the changing of the diapers to your heterosexual mothers and fathers. Your legacy is your sensitivity, your creativity, and your art.

Editor’s note: After four years, we’re sorry to say that Chris Sill will be no longer be Mr. GrooveOut, leaving us to study media production and pursue his national DJ career. He’s still in Houston, DJing Friday nights at Rich’s and selling music at Soundwaves.