I can’t remember how long it was after the riot. […] I’m in the shower one day and the phone rang and this voice who I didn’t recognize said, “Just wanted you to know that the Grand Jury is coming after you.” And I said, “When?” and they said, “Well, about any minute, get ready or leave.” I was very scared of the Grand Jury because you know in the ’60s and ’70s, the Grand Juries had been used in very frightening ways to attack progressive political groups and individuals. Grand Jury, it was scary. About an hour after this anonymous phone call there was this knock on the door and that was the subpoena to come to the Grand Jury.
This is a wonderful story, ’cause I called up a number of radical attorneys, Matt Cole from the ACLU and a civil rights advocate friend and some other parties. In a Grand Jury you’re not allowed to have counsel. No one can go into the Grand Jury with you. You have to do it alone. But at any time during the interrogation in front of the Grand Jury, you can request to consult with counsel. At that time I was a heavy smoker, so was Matt Cole. We both decided that every time they asked me a question, every question, no matter how mundane, every single question, I would stop; I would ask them to repeat it; I would write it down word for word; I would read it back to them, ask them if this was the question. Then I would respectfully request permission to consult with counsel before responding. So I went into court and they said, (Cleve explains in monotone) “What is your name?” I wrote it down (looks down, mimics writing on a pad, mumbles to himself) “What is your name?” (Looks up and asks) “Is the question: ‘What is my name?’ I respectfully request permission to consult with counsel before responding.” I go on up, out the hall, step outside, have a cigarette, go back in sit down, “Cleve Jones.” “What is your address?” “Could you repeat the question please?” “What is your address?” I write it down (looks down, mimics writing on a pad again, and mumbles to himself) “What is your address?” (Asks court) “Is the question: ‘What is my address?’” “Yes.” “I respectfully request to consult with counsel before responding.” Go outside, smoke a cigarette, come back in, “521 Castro Street,” or whatever my address was at the time. So this went on, it took them like four hours to get my name, address, occupation and school. It just went on and on and on.
The Foreman finally threatened me with contempt of court. He said that I was required by the law to answer and I was required by the law to keep everything I was asked and everything I answered a secret. So then I went out and talked with my attorney for some time and when I came back in I told them: “I intend to answer all of the questions that you ask me and I intend to answer them truthfully but it is also my intention to publish the questions that you ask and the answers that I have given.” Then they went into an uproar. They said, “You can’t do that. You can’t do that.” I said, “I intend to.” Finally, they decided that they would proceed and they said, “Please describe for us how you proceeded from Castro Street to City Hall.” I went out and smoked a couple of cigarettes, came back in and said, “On foot.” (Laughs.) And then half the jury cracked up and they were laughing. So they dismissed me and I was never indicted. There were charges pressed against some of the people who were arrested that night but there was no effort to prove any conspiracy. I think it was partly because the following weekend it was the Gay Pride Parade and it was just to everybody’s interest not to see this go any farther.
So Sunday morning Gay Pride I was marching with the Harvey Milk Gay and Lesbian Democratic Club down Market Street. I hate to admit it but I had bodyguards because I had received a lot of threats. So we’re just walking down the street and all of a sudden this sort of odd looking, very straight looking middle-aged man in a suit came out of the crowd onto the street in front of our contingent and started pointing at me, “You’re Cleve Jones; You’re Cleve Jones.” And then the little group of bodyguards came all around me and we all went, great, he’s carrying a gun or whatever is going to happen from him. But then he said “I was on the Grand Jury! You were fabulous, girl!” (Laughs hard.) And that was it.
— Cleve Jones on the aftermath of the White Night riots at City Hall against the lenient “Twinkie defense” manslaughter verdict for Dan White, the assassin of gay San Francisco Supervisor Harvey Milk and Mayor George Moscone, May 21, 1979, in White Nights and Ascending Shadows: An Oral History of the San Francisco AIDS Epidemic (1997) by Benjamin Heim Shepard, p. 53.
blakekathryn
vaporwave
romaincrisis
yousharknotpass
2087
prguitarman
jacobvanloon
discoholicmusic
