Bill was a good friend in Memphis, working in the closet as a V.P. for Holiday Inn. Lucky for me he had been sent to San Fran temporarily. So, he was there to pick me up in the middle of the night upon my arrival. Before I could catch a wink of sleep, off we went across the Golden Gate Bridge to Mount Tam to catch the sunrise. And I marveled for the first time, my new city and my new life. Down through Sausalito, back across the Golden Gate and on to experience the thrill of my first trip winding down serpentine Lombard Street. Then to Union Square where I bowed to the majesty of the marble queen, I. Magnin.
Soon I would be starting my career in this glorious building with its gold fixtured bathrooms.
In one week I would join the ranks of the fashionistas and wear my first purchased designer tog, an original Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress.
Writing this, I just flashed on my first visit to Chinatown and toffee apple fritters with Bill. These little apple niblets came to the table all hot and sticky. I wrestled with those damn chopsticks but, determined, I picked one up and dropped it into the iced water to enjoy the crunch. And of course, we drank Irish coffees on foggy days. Soon to come would be more food, discos and poppers. Finally, I was breathing the air I deserved, even if it stank of amyl nitrate.
The next week Bill dropped me off at my first apartment. It had 16 apartments and 15 were occupied by gay men. I had no idea that every gay man in America escaping discrimination had moved to San Francisco. And lucky for me, the boys were there waiting with open arms.
They recognized my serious need for a cultural catch-up, this very naive little girl just off the paddle boat from Memphis, Tennessee. They treated me to dinners and many nights out. Good bye cornbread and collards. I even learned that bread came in brown and had seeds. Plop a smash of avocado on it, with some sprouts and you were having lunch at the Haven on Polk. So, this avocado toast trend is old hat to me folks.
They made sure I saw THE WOMEN to enjoy its fashion and flair. We held our sides when Bambi met Godzilla…(must have been stoned) as that is not funny…or is it?
Little did I know our lives during that period were being documented in the San Francisco Chronicle by Armistead Maupin in TALES OF THE CITY . The book followed and then the wonderful TV series. I was the shy wide eyed character Mary Ann Singleton but as Bill once told me ”honey, it didn’t take you long for you to become Mona”. Mona was seriously bohemian and high spirited.
My beginnings were magical. Bill did eventually dump Memphis, the job and the closet and join the party in S. F. We lived as young people do, thinking that our lives would never end. But from that disco ball spinning and Patti La Belle belting voulez vous courcher avec moi they did…END. Bill had a wicked sense of humor and wanted me to find comfort in his designated claim to fame. He died across the hall from Halston, both of AIDS.
Bill Hull, R.I.P.
I ❤️ YOU
Happy Pride and VOTE to protect LGBTQ rights!
to be continued…
Thank goodness we have Martha to remember the good times (and the bad times) for us!
Love this! Cant wait to read more tales… but all true 🥰