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Copyright 1999 Globe Newspaper Company

The Boston Globe

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August 20, 1999, Friday ,City Edition

SECTION: METRO/REGION; Pg. B1

LENGTH: 1129 words

HEADLINE: Gay activists worry about repeated attacks in Fens;

Police make one arrest; other assaults probed

BYLINE: By Ryan Davis, Globe Correspondent

BODY:

On June 1, three gay men walking in the Fens were threatened by three men carrying a two-by-four. One of the gay men was hit over the head with a chain, knocked to the ground, and beaten.

On June 21, a gay man was found lying on a path in the Fens, his jaw and nose broken and his teeth spilled across the walkway.

The two assaults, reported to Boston police, are part of an ugly summer of violent attacks on gays - at least seven, gay activists say - in the Fens, the gay cruising area near Fenway Park.

"It's everything short of murder. We're all holding our breath, fearing that will be next," said gay activist Greg Carmack, who frequents the area.

But as police investigate at least two reported attacks since May, activists say the true extent of the upsurge in violence is unknown, in part because often-tense relations between the gay community and the Boston police have not been helped by the police liaison's move to another job late last year.

Police officials, including Commissioner Paul Evans, say they share the community's concern, and that they are looking into why more gay officers don't acknowledge their orientation to colleagues.

Gay activists and police say many more assaults in the Fens have gone unreported for other reasons, ranging from victims' embarrassment to a sense of unease in dealing with police.

"We can't help without that initial cooperation from the victim," said Boston police spokeswoman Margot Hill. She said the department has received reports of three attacks on gays this summer in the Fens and has made one arrest. That arrest is being investigated as a potential hate crime.

As the number and severity of gay-bashing incidents ratchet up, gay activists and police agree that the key to combating hate crimes is forging stronger relations.

Most gay advocates give the Boston police high marks for its rapport with the gay community - much higher grades than police departments get from gays in other US cities.

Besides the liaison, which the police have had since 1978, the department's highly praised Community Disorders Unit aggressively investigates hate crimes.

Earlier this month, police officials met with gay community leaders to discuss the rash of violence in the Fens.

But despite the progress, gay activists say there is still some discomfort among many gays when it comes to interacting with police.

For the past 5 1/2 years, Norman Hill has served in that role. He also is one of just a handful of openly gay police officers on the force. He did the kinds of things liaisons are expected to do: hold meetings, build relationships with community leaders, respond to complaints.

But Hill did much more than that. He was a pal, someone gays could chat easily with.

At the end of last year Hill took a new position in internal affairs. While it was a good professional move for Hill, many gays say it was a setback for them.

The police department has had a hard time finding a permanent successor, particularly the gay or lesbian officer that the department would prefer, Hill said.

The pickings are slim. Aside from Hill, the Boston police has by most accounts only one other openly gay officer in a department of 2,000 officers. Hill, however, says he knows other gay officers.

A big reason why more gay officers have not been open about their sexual orientation is the "macho" mentality that pervades police forces.

And some gay activists believe the dearth of openly gay officers has made many hate-crime victims reluctant to ask police for help.

"If there are openly gay officers in the police, that tells people in the community that there is someone they can call," said Dave Shannon, director of the Violence

Recovery Program at the Fenway Community Health Center, which serves the city's gay community. "It says that the police force must in some way foster an environment that embraces diversity."

Both issues - the shortage of gay officers willing to be open about their sexual orientation and the reluctance of many gay victims to report crimes - are national problems.

An analysis of 1,743 gay-bashing reports nationwide, based on research done last year by the New York City Gay and Lesbian Anti-Violence Project, found that only 59 percent of them were reported to police.

Other victims were ashamed, feared the police, or did not want to be forced out of the closet, said the group's spokesman, Clarence Patton.

As for openly gay officers, a few large city departments have had success in promoting an atmosphere of tolerance. In New York City, for example, there are hundreds of openly gay officers in a force of 40,000, according to Don Jirak, president of the New York chapter of the Gay Officers Action League.

Meanwhile, both the rising number and viciousness of hate crimes against gays nationally - punctuated by the horrific beating death of Matthew Shepard last year in Wyoming - worry gay advocates and law enforcement authorities.

In Boston, the number of antigay hate crimes reported to Boston police rose from 71 in 1997 to 90 in 1998, according to the Fenway Community Health Center.

Because the Fenway attracts many gays, it also appears to be drawing people looking to victimize gays, police said.

Complicating the challenge of tackling gay hate crimes, police say, is the sense that police are being asked to protect gay men cruising for random sex in the Fens and at the same time turn their back on any potentially lewd activities occurring in a public area.

But gay activists, while acknowledging that the police force's behavior toward gays has improved markedly since the mid-1990s, when police would shine floodlights into the Fens to chase people away, complain that the officers still harass gays simply for being in the area.

"The patrols suddenly became more professional and perfunctory, but there has been enough recurring heavy-handedness that we still do not feel comfortable communicating in any way with patrol officers," Carmack said.

Shannon said none of this summer's victims were having sex when they were attacked and were simply walking in the Fens.

Boston police Lieutenant David Aldrich said police are willing to work with gay victims and still protect their anonymity.

Ultimately, though, both gays and police say that having more gays visible throughout the department - and not just a lone community liaison - would go a long way toward overcoming the history of tension between gays and the police.

"You absolutely need to reflect the people you serve," said Don Gorton, chairman of the Boston area chapter of the Gay and Lesbian Anti-Violence project. "If any constituency is not represented on the police force, it's more difficult to cooperate on common concerns."

GRAPHIC: PHOTO, GLOBE STAFF PHOTO/BILL BRETT/Police are investigating two attacks on gay men in the Fens, but activists say more violence has

occurred in the area.

LANGUAGE: ENGLISH

LOAD-DATE: August 26, 1999

 

 

 

 

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Copyright 1998 Star Tribune

Star Tribune (Minneapolis, MN)

December 12, 1998, Metro Edition

SECTION: Pg. 3B

LENGTH: 395 words

HEADLINE: St. Cloud lesbian student says attack didn't happen;

No charges are to be filed against her

BYLINE: Kevin Giles; Staff Writer

BODY:

A lesbian student at St. Cloud State University who said she was attacked and beaten because of her sexual orientation now admits it never happened, police

said Friday.

Police said the 22-year-old woman lied in October when she reported being attacked by two men in a university parking lot after a candlelight vigil in

remembrance of gay University of Wyoming student Matthew Shepard, who died after being beaten by two men he met in a bar.

However, six members of Lambda, an organization for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender students, said in a statement Friday night that they believe the

attack did happen and that people underestimate the strong homophobic attitude in St. Cloud.

"I do not think the St. Cloud police did their job," said Tammy Buzzard, one of the students. "I think the investigation was very biased, and it was botched. In

my eyes, they were manipulative and they treated her like a criminal."

Police Chief Dennis O'Keefe said that the woman's allegations didn't add up, that a medical report said her injuries were self-inflicted and that she admitted under

questioning this week that she had lied. O'Keefe said that the student's admission closes the case and that no charges will be filed against her. She hasn't been

identified.

The woman told police in October that she had spent the evening studying at the campus library. She said that as she later unlocked her car in the dark, someone

tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned, a man punched her three times in the face. The men knocked her to the ground, hitting her again and yelling

homophobic slurs, she said. She told police that one man warned her: "We know that you're a smart dyke. Don't say anything to anyone."

The university rallied to her defense. Several campus leaders condemned the alleged attack as another in a string of hate crimes on the campus of about 10,000

students. Campus police stepped up patrols.

On Friday, Barry Wegener, a university spokesman, said school officials are shocked and hope the case won't affect future assault reports.

After the alleged attack, the university established a reward fund that grew to nearly $ 12,000. University President Bruce Grube had contributed the first $ 1,000

from a university foundation fund. Money could be returned to donors, or it could be used for other antihate-crime activities.

 

 

LANGUAGE: ENGLISH

LOAD-DATE: December 14, 1998

 

 

 

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Daily News (New York)

September 06, 1998, Sunday

SECTION: News; Pg. 18

LENGTH: 305 words

HEADLINE: VILLAGE GAY ATTACK PROBED

BYLINE: By TOM RAFTERY and PAUL H.B. SHIN

BODY:

 

A scuffle in a Greenwich Village nightclub early yesterday is under investigation as a possible bias incident, the latest in a string of reported anti-gay attacks in theVillage.

Two men in their 30s said that a man spouting anti-gay epithets roughed them up inside Polly Esther's at 186 W. Fourth St. about 3:40 a.m., police said. A description of the attacker was not available.

The victims told cops the attacker hit them with his hands and caused bruises, police spokeswoman Carmen Melendez said.

She added that the victims were not treated at a hospital.

The victims reported the assault to 6th Precinct cops "several hours" after the incident.

There have been 13 consecutive days of anti-gay violence reported in the city as of yesterday, according to Chris Quinn, executive director of the New York City Gay and Lesbian Anti-Violence Project.

"I cannot recall a time when there have been been so many assaults in so short a period," Quinn said. "This is a crisis situation. We need the mayor or perhaps the governor to treat it as the emergency crisis it is."

Police Commissioner Howard Safir has stepped up patrols in the Village in response to a recent spate of homicides, stabbings and gay-bashing incidents. But Quinn was critical of the response so far, saying the added security in the 6th Precinct has been mostly undercover cops.

"The way you stop this is you send a message to the criminals that this will not be tolerated," Quinn said. "Having a blue uniform on the corner will send that message."

About 150 to 200 demonstrators gathered in Sheridan Square on Friday to urge city officials to take more action on the recent anti-gay crime spree.

"We need the officials to stand together with the gay community and send a message to end this spree of violence," Quinn said.

LOAD-DATE: September 07, 1998

 

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Copyright 1996 Times Mirror Company

Los Angeles Times

April 16, 1996, Tuesday, Home Edition

SECTION: Metro; Part B; Page 4; Metro Desk

LENGTH: 354 words

HEADLINE: SOUTHEAST;

2 WOMEN BEATEN BY NEIGHBORS, POLICE SAY

BODY:

The bloody handprint is still on the sidewalk in front of the home where the two women live on Temple Avenue in Long Beach.

There is a bloody footprint there as well, a grim reminder to passersby of what happened in the early hours of Saturday when the two were allegedly beaten by a dozen of their neighbors with sticks that resembled police batons.

Their transgression, according to those who live nearby, is that they parked a little too close to some neighbors--and that they were lesbians.

The details of what happened are sketchy and the Long Beach Police Department report was still unavailable late Monday afternoon. But what those in the neighborhood say is that the two women exchanged words with neighbors, possibly over where a car was parked, and that the bloody incident ensued from there.

The initial police report was terse and apparently erroneous: that two women were beaten with a baseball bat by just two other women.

But residents said the beatings were much worse because a large number of people were involved.

The incident occurred about 12:25 a.m. when 10 to 12 people from the next block attacked the women after an argument.

Long Beach Police spokeswoman Maria Mendez said that during the attack derogatory remarks were made about the sexual orientation of the two women.

"There were words exchanged to indicate that it was a hate crime," she said.

When police arrived, all who were in the area of the beatings scattered. No arrests have been made. The two women were both badly beaten. One suffered a black eye and the other was treated at St. Mary's Hospital for cuts to the scalp. She was treated and released.

The 15-year-old son of one of the beaten women said that his mother received 11 stitches in the head and that the other woman needed seven stitches for similar wounds.

"I don't know where they came from, but they just swarmed," he said.

Sharon Johnson, an advocate for the Los Angeles Gay Center anti-violence project, said the Saturday morning incident was similar to other attacks on gays and lesbians.

"It fits the general pattern," she said.

LANGUAGE: English

LOAD-DATE: April 16, 1996

 

 

 

 

Copyright 1997 Times Mirror Company

Los Angeles Times

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April 27, 1997, Sunday, Valley Edition

SECTION: Metro; Part B; Page 1; Zones Desk

LENGTH: 2174 words

HEADLINE: OUT IN THE VALLEY;

LESBIANS HAVE BEEN DRAWN TO AREA'S SUBURBAN LIFESTYLE SINCE LONG BEFORE 'ELLEN'

BYLINE: ROBIN RAUZI, TIMES STAFF WRITER

 

BODY:

Ah, the difference TV makes.

When the title character on "Ellen" proclaims that she is a lesbian on the ABC sitcom Wednesday night, millions will be watching. And lesbians around the country, gathered in bars, churches and living rooms, will celebrate the debut of the first gay lead character on network TV.

But when 48-year-old Jody Young came out eight years ago, there was no TV show, no parties. As dramatically as her life changed, she said, much of it stayed the same: the job, the errands, the neighbors, the house in Northridge where she's lived for 22 years.

It never occurred to her to move to a so-called gay area like West Hollywood. The San Fernando Valley is home. "Being gay doesn't change that," she said.

"I'm not going to run away from this place because I'm out and other people might not approve."

What Young didn't know was that despite its Brady Bunch image, the Valley has long been home to what some say may be the largest--albeit diffuse--lesbian population in Los Angeles. There are as many lesbian bars here as in Long Beach, which also has a sizable lesbian community. At the same time, the Valley is regarded as a place to live comfortably, anonymously and safely. Indeed, a county hate crimes report released last week showed only 17 such incidents against homosexuals in North Hollywood, compared to 61 in Hollywood and 45 in West Hollywood.

Jeff Miller, a gay real estate agent who has sold houses to and for lesbians all over the Valley, said those clients have been just like everyone else buying houses here: primarily professional, upwardly mobile, baby-boomer couples.

"They're moving out to the Valley to do what everyone else does: have a quieter, less hectic life, and do the suburban thing."

Lesbians have been seeking that out since the postwar years, led by two pioneering nightclub owners, Beverly Shaw and Joanie Hannan.

The Rev. Flo Fleischman, 67, of North Hollywood still remembers the clubs--Hannan's Joanie Presents and Shaw's Club Laurel--as classy spots where she and her friends could gather. They may have been living under the pressure of a secret life, or gotten teased at work during the week, Fleischman said, "but on Saturday night--that was date night--all that was forgotten."

 

 

*

The big concern at gay bars was police raids, recalled Edie Brown, 61, who started frequenting that scene while still a student at San Fernando High School.

Cross-dressed men or women were targeted. The police, in fact, had a rule that everyone had to wear at least three articles of gender-appropriate clothing.

"There were some women who passed as men," Brown said. "But if they got caught and they didn't have those three pieces of clothing, they were in jail."

Maybe because the Valley was still the sticks, the police didn't seem to bother the bars in North Hollywood as frequently as those in Hollywood, Silver Lake

and the beach cities. So more cropped up. By the late '50s and early '60s, there were about a dozen softball teams sponsored by bars, plus bowling leagues, private "key clubs" and restaurants.

It wasn't just the social life that drew women over the hill, though. There were jobs--in the studios, at General Motors and Lockheed--that could support a woman living on her own. Equally important were inexpensive houses--costing about $ 15,000--and the sense of safety.

"It was suburbia," said Fleischman, who is on the board of directors for the International Gay and Lesbian Archives. "And here they could have something that they never had before."

The same things are drawing--or keeping--lesbians in the Valley today.

Young--who had been married to a man with whom she had five children--found that she felt uncomfortable in the Westside scene once she started dating two years ago.

"Most of them have more money than the people in the Valley, but they're transient and their relationships seemed transient," she said. "I found I had more in common with women in the Valley. A lot of them have homes, jobs they've worked at for many years. . . . These were all things I was looking for."

Judy Chiasson, too, decided to remain in the Valley after coming out at age 35.

"I was too afraid to leave," said Chiasson, 43, who lives in Sherman Oaks. "I wondered if I would be accepted here. I liked it here, but I wondered what it was going to be like to be gay here. Did I have to move to West Hollywood?"

The needs of her children, ages 10 and 13, were most important. Chiasson, herself a teacher, wanted to be in a place where the schools were good and the neighborhood safe.

"I have one of those households where the door is always open," she said. "That's how I grew up and that's how I wanted it to be for my kids."

Chiasson, who just got engaged to her girlfriend, Carolyn Berry, initially didn't think it would be easy for her neighbors to understand the changes in her

family. But she discovered "that the other mothers were just far more understanding than I expected. It's been a very positive experience."

The Valley's lesbian bars--all of which are planning "coming out" parties for the "Ellen" episode Wednesday--remain centered in the North Hollywood-Van

Nuys area, but the women themselves have spread west and north with the rest of the population. Still, there are scattered neighborhoods to which, for whatever reason, lesbians gravitate.

Real estate agent Kathy Barbier, for example, sold three homes to lesbians in one Van Nuys neighborhood where several other gay women already lived.

"There isn't necessarily a community there," she said. "The prices fit their budgets."

Women are still, on average, paid less than men, Barbier pointed out. Less than a mile away, Sheila O'Kane manages an apartment building where lesbians live in 15 of the 20 units. One of the reasons, O'Kane said, is cheap rent: a one-bedroom apartment is $ 495 a month.

 

 

*

The other thing lesbians repeatedly said they were seeking in the Valley was safe neighborhoods, which they seem to have found. The 1996 hate crimes report by the Los Angeles County Commission on Human Rights did show an increase in the number of hate crimes against lesbians, but officials attributed that to more victims reporting incidents.

Still, the commission found only 40 sexual-orientation hate crimes in the entire San Fernando Valley in 1996, compared to 146 in the rest of Los Angeles.

Long Beach, a city with one-third the population of the Valley, had 33.

Gay men were the targets of the vast majority--around 75%--of all anti-gay hate crimes. That's because the men tend to be more noticeable, said Lisa

Phillips, the LAPD's field liaison to the gay and lesbian community.

There is a chance that the publicity generated by the "Ellen" show could spark hostilities toward lesbians, said Sharen Shaw Johnson, chief advocate for the Los Angeles Gay & Lesbian Center's anti-violence project. Hate crimes against gays last year peaked at times of greater media coverage: in May, when the U.S. Supreme Court overturned Colorado's Amendment 2, which would have barred the inclusion of gays in anti-discrimination laws; and in June, when most gay pride parades and celebrations were held.

"Nationally and in Los Angeles for years, we've seen a very direct correlation between gay and lesbian visibility and attacks," Johnson said. "However, when we say that, it's incumbent upon us . . . to understand that that in no way means we should go back into the closet.

"It's a clear, clear call for the need for more visibility, not less."

But it seems unlikely that the Valley will ever have a conspicuous lesbian community, as much because of the nature of the Valley as the nature of the women who live here. The Valley is the place to settle down and live a more tranquil life.

Carol Newman, 47, an attorney who is local president of the Log Cabin Club, a gay Republican group, said she'll go out to West Hollywood, but prefers coming home to Encino.

She hates to generalize, Newman said, "but women who are paired off want a quieter lifestyle. Guys want to be in the middle of things and go out."

"The people who end up in the Valley are a little more laid-back," said O'Kane, the Van Nuys apartment manager. "They've gone through the cruising thing.

They've outgrown it. And now they're settled into their job and their lifestyles. And the Valley lends itself more to that kind of thing."

In a sense, lesbians here do feel like victims of their own successful integration. They no longer have to go to a select number of bars or restaurants--and thus don't have the same sense of community that their predecessors did 30 to 40 years ago.

At the suggestion of a friend, Dennis Mancini started an all-women's night on Sundays at the Canoga Park club that bears his name. He had no idea so many lesbians live in the area.

"When I called the LN--the Lesbian News--and told them what I was planning, they said they get so many calls saying, please tell us when there's something opening up in the west end of the Valley because there's so many people in Thousand Oaks and Simi Valley who don't want to drive all the way into the city," Mancini said.

 

 

*

Many mourn the closure last year of one of the larger bars, North Hollywood's Club 22, even if they hardly ever went there. Younger women, in particular, say they have to drive to West Hollywood to socialize.

"It's hard being a single lesbian," said Monica Watford, 32, who lives in Northridge. "I've been in the gay community since I was a kid. It's so small that you're obviously going to meet somebody who's been with somebody you know. . . . There's really no place to go to meet new people."

Watford remembers that six or seven years ago, there seemed to be other social outlets--football in Balboa Park or Frisbee in Griffith Park on the weekends. Not any more. All around her, it seems, the women are paired up.

"It's like the thing to do," she said, "get a little house in the Valley."

GRAPHIC: PHOTO: Danette Lindeman of Woodland Hills, left, dances with a friend on all-women's night at Mancini's in Canoga Park.

PHOTOGRAPHER: BRIAN VANDER BRUG / Los Angeles Times PHOTO: Judy Chiasson gets a hug from Carolyn Berry as Chiasson's daughter looks

on. PHOTOGRAPHER: GERARD BURKHART / Los Angeles Times PHOTO: Danette Lindeman and West Hills resident Karen Jackson at Mancini's.

PHOTOGRAPHER: GERARD BURKHART / Los Angeles Times PHOTOGRAPHER: 'I wondered if I would be accepted here. I liked it here, but I

wondered what it was going to be like to be gay here. Did I have to move to West Hollywood?'-- JUDY CHIASSON, Sherman Oaks mother of two on her

coming out as a lesbian PHOTOGRAPHER: BRIAN VANDER BRUG / Los Angeles Times

LANGUAGE: English

LOAD-DATE: December 21, 1998

 

 

 

 

 


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