How's It Playing in Peoria
First, an important fact about Peoria, Ill., an exemplar of the American heartland: Residents there still consider the city a crucial gauge of the nation's pulse. The expression, "Will it play in Peoria?" -- made popular during the Nixon administration -- goes back at least 80 years, when national theater companies went to Peoria first (before New York, before Chicago, before anywhere) to test shows in front of audiences that the producers believed were most representative of America.
"I've lived here for 32 years," Brad Dunham, a Peoria lawyer, says in a phone interview. "By and large, it's a family oriented community."
It's also a community that's talking about same-sex marriage. Not because it especially wants to, but because it can't avoid it. The airwaves in Peoria have been saturated with coverage of gay unions in San Francisco and other cities, and with political debate over a proposed constitutional amendment that would ban gay marriage. Last month at the Peoria Friendship Missionary Baptist Church -- a 200-member congregation in the city's northern corridor -- a school-age parishioner asked other worshipers for their thoughts on gay weddings. She opposes them but wanted others' opinions after her teacher brought up the subject.
"We have a youth church here in Peoria, and a teacher posed the question, 'Did God make people gay?' " said Rev. Raymond E. Watson Jr., the pastor of the Peoria Friendship Missionary Baptist Church, in a phone interview. "The young lady posted (comments on our church Web site) asking for support. She wanted clarity. As a teenager, she has a firm belief that gay marriage is wrong."
"I'm (also) opposed to homosexual marriage," says Watson.
Attorney Dunham, who is a member of a group called the Coalition of Concerned Citizens, likewise opposes gay weddings, saying, "It's a slippery slope taking place before our eyes -- a lot of people are buying into it, unfortunately."
If San Francisco is the epicenter of the same-sex marriage movement, then Peoria is its Midwest caldera of opposition -- and yet it's a mistake to think that all of Peoria sides with Dunham and Watson.
Peoria has a community of gays and lesbians, even if they're not organized in the same way Dunham's group is. At Bradley University, a group called Common Ground -- which is an alliance of gays, lesbians, bisexuals, straights and others -- has existed for a decade. Several gay bars are popular in Peoria. One that was big for many years, the Red Fox Den, is located just a few blocks north of Peoria's City Hall.
Among the people who patronized the Red Fox: Tim McCanless, a freelance writer and graphic artist who, two years ago, married his partner, Roy, in a civil ceremony in Vermont. The couple live in Eureka, Ill., a small town 20 miles east of Peoria. After their wedding, Tim and Roy hosted a celebration at the Eureka Presbyterian Church, where he's a longtime member. Last year, they were the focus of a feature story in Peoria's biggest paper, the Peoria Journal Star.
"Everyone pretty much knows Roy is my wife," Tim McCanless says in a phone interview from his home. "No one really has had a problem with it."
The issue of gay rights is really nothing new to Peoria. Last April, Peoria's City Council had a contentious debate about amending its human rights ordinance to protect gays and lesbians against discrimination. At the prodding of gay rights activists, the body voted 8-3 to change its ordinance, though one council member, Clyde Gulley Jr., seemed to speak for many when he said, "A 'yes' vote means I don't agree with people being discriminated against. That's it. It doesn't mean I agree with homosexuality. I don't."
Many people in Peoria refer to gays and lesbians as "homosexuals." For San Franciscans, the word may denote a kind of backwardness they might ascribe to the Midwest. But national figures also use the same language, and some use even harsher words to deride those they say are imposing a pro-gay agenda on other parts of the United States.
"The last time I checked, San Francisco was not a sovereign state," says Richard Land, president of the Southern Baptist Convention's Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission. Gavin Newsom, Land says in all seriousness, "should be arrested."
Legally speaking, Land's idea may be on shaky ground, but people in Peoria who oppose same-sex marriage say their views are based on solid beliefs. Broken down into categories, these views can be summarized this way:
-- Gay marriage is a sin. Dismissing evidence that suggests there are physiological factors in whether a person is gay or lesbian, Watson says gays and lesbians have deliberately chosen their "lifestyle," and that their behavior -- whether it's in private or public -- contravenes God's doctrines.
"The person who is in an alternative or homosexual lifestyle is in the same category as a man who is cheating on his wife with another woman -- it's a violation of God's law," Watson says. "God had intended that man and woman be together, to fulfill his command that we must be fruitful and multiply. That's the context of the first marriage between Adam and Eve. Homosexual marriage doesn't foster that. There is something missing. You (either) have seed but no egg, or egg but no seed."
In Peoria, Watson says, his view is not just held among the clergy and church goers but among much of the populace. "Here in Peoria," he says, "there are more leanings toward the Christian right."
-- Gay rights aren't civil rights. Many in Peoria are shocked that gay rights advocates would equate their cause with the black rights movement and other civil rights causes. Harvey Milk should not be equated with Rosa Parks, they say.
"There's no similarity between the claims of homosexuals and the civil rights claims of blacks," says Dunham, who unsuccessfully campaigned against the changes in Peoria's human rights ordinance. "If I was a black American, I'd be affronted and disgusted with that type of analogy."
Pastor Watson, who is African American, does, indeed, take issue with the comparison. "We have people saying this is a new civil rights issue; I don't think it is that type of issue because what's going on happens to be about choice," Watson says. "You choose to live that lifestyle, unlike minorities in this country. They had no choice on how they were born -- whether it's African American, Hispanic American, native American. A lot of homosexual men have been (in childhood) sexually abused by other men, or they had poor relationships with their fathers, or poor relationships with women, or they had a bad first relationship with a woman, or their first relationship might have been with another boy their age. The same can be said for homosexual women."
-- Supporters of gay marriage are tying to circumvent legal and social norms. Opponent say it's illegal for same-sex couple to marry. When it adhered to Mayor Newsom's wishes on gay weddings, San Francisco City Hall helped open the floodgates in other cities willing to break the law in the name of gay marriage.
"Homosexual groups have not only come out of the closet but have stormed the gates of all institutions," Dunham says. "They've become brazen and bold. What we're seeing is a step-by-step process that may seem disjointed and unorganized but is actually well organized and well planned."
Last year, when the Peoria City Council was debating its ordinance, a Peoria gay rights group called the Men's Network successfully lobbied council members. Its president, Douglas Drenckpohl, told a reporter afterward, "Now gay rights does play in Peoria." Drenckpohl was not available for comment on this article; his listed number in Peoria has been disconnected, and his organization's Web site hasn't been updated for a year. In another measure of the profile of gays and lesbians in Peoria, a bar there that's known for its gay clientele (Sparky's Ringside Bar & Grill) told a phone caller from San Francisco that it's "not a gay bar."
McCanless say that's not so. He says some establishments are still uneasy about admitting the truth. Sometimes, McCanless says, he feels like an isolated pioneer. He knows of many other gays and lesbians in the Peoria area, but he and Roy may be the only openly gay couple there. He says they've never been subjected to physical harassment or threats (even though they get the occasional crank caller yelling, "Faggots!") McCanless and Roy did experience pointed opposition from state officials when they wanted to legally change Roy's last name to McCanless on his driver's license, but ultimately the couple succeeded in making the switch not just on the license but on Roy's Social Security card. McCanless says people are gradually accepting their marital status.
"When I grew up," says McCanless, who was born and raised in Eureka, "I wanted to get married and have a family. I didn't know how I could do that, because they said I can't marry a guy even if I love him. But I should have just as much right to marry somebody and to receive the same benefits and opportunities that other married couples get automatically and take for granted. ...
"I'm going to have surgery in about a month, and I have already made it clear to my doctor that Roy is my spouse, and that if the hospital will not allow him in there with me to make decisions -- along with my mother -- then I'll find another hospital to do my surgery. And the doctor said, 'No. That's fine.'
"People are being forced to learn, which is a cool thing. I was at the pharmacy the other day, and this woman said to Roy, 'Oh -- you're Tim's ...' And Roy looked at her and said, 'Spouse.' And the woman said, 'Yes.' She didn't know what to say about 'husband.' I refer to him as my spouse. If someone doesn't understand, I say 'partner.' My mom refers to Roy as her son- in-law."
Last year, Watson was watching late-night TV in Peoria when he saw a commercial aimed at gay men. It was a revelation. "I'm used to in Chicago seeing the ads for 900 numbers where they advertise, 'Talk to a woman over the phone,' and those type of things," he said. "Well, I was watching (Peoria) TV one night, and they ran a commercial for a 900 number that said, 'If you're gay, bi or just curious.' My mouth dropped. I never saw that in Chicago, which is a liberal town. I come to a conservative town and I see it here. So, homosexuals are here. That commercial was out there, and it was blunt."
So, Peoria -- a Midwestern city on the banks of the Illinois River -- is changing. And its reputation as a gauge of a large cross-section American society seems to be intact.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Peoria at a glance
Population: 112,936 (according to 2000 census data)
Racial breakdown:
77,138 (69.29 percent) who identify themselves as white;
27,783 (24.79 percent) black or partially black;
2,839 (2.51 percent) Hispanic or Latino;
2,603 (2.33 percent) Asian
Median household income: $36,397
Average household size: 2.38
Economy: The city's biggest employer is Caterpillar Inc., the internationally known maker of mining and earthmoving equipment, which has its headquarters there. Peoria has gone through economic ups and downs. Nine days ago, one of Peoria's landmark downtown restaurants, The Grill on Fulton, closed because of lack of business.
Famous native sons and daughters: Comic Richard Pryor and feminist Betty Friedan, who described the city as the "middle of the middle of America." She added: "I played in Peoria, but I got out of there."
E-mail Jonathan Curiel at jcuriel@sfchronicle.com.
This article appeared on page E - 1 of the San Francisco Chronicle
"I've lived here for 32 years," Brad Dunham, a Peoria lawyer, says in a phone interview. "By and large, it's a family oriented community."
It's also a community that's talking about same-sex marriage. Not because it especially wants to, but because it can't avoid it. The airwaves in Peoria have been saturated with coverage of gay unions in San Francisco and other cities, and with political debate over a proposed constitutional amendment that would ban gay marriage. Last month at the Peoria Friendship Missionary Baptist Church -- a 200-member congregation in the city's northern corridor -- a school-age parishioner asked other worshipers for their thoughts on gay weddings. She opposes them but wanted others' opinions after her teacher brought up the subject.
"We have a youth church here in Peoria, and a teacher posed the question, 'Did God make people gay?' " said Rev. Raymond E. Watson Jr., the pastor of the Peoria Friendship Missionary Baptist Church, in a phone interview. "The young lady posted (comments on our church Web site) asking for support. She wanted clarity. As a teenager, she has a firm belief that gay marriage is wrong."
"I'm (also) opposed to homosexual marriage," says Watson.
Attorney Dunham, who is a member of a group called the Coalition of Concerned Citizens, likewise opposes gay weddings, saying, "It's a slippery slope taking place before our eyes -- a lot of people are buying into it, unfortunately."
If San Francisco is the epicenter of the same-sex marriage movement, then Peoria is its Midwest caldera of opposition -- and yet it's a mistake to think that all of Peoria sides with Dunham and Watson.
Peoria has a community of gays and lesbians, even if they're not organized in the same way Dunham's group is. At Bradley University, a group called Common Ground -- which is an alliance of gays, lesbians, bisexuals, straights and others -- has existed for a decade. Several gay bars are popular in Peoria. One that was big for many years, the Red Fox Den, is located just a few blocks north of Peoria's City Hall.
Among the people who patronized the Red Fox: Tim McCanless, a freelance writer and graphic artist who, two years ago, married his partner, Roy, in a civil ceremony in Vermont. The couple live in Eureka, Ill., a small town 20 miles east of Peoria. After their wedding, Tim and Roy hosted a celebration at the Eureka Presbyterian Church, where he's a longtime member. Last year, they were the focus of a feature story in Peoria's biggest paper, the Peoria Journal Star.
"Everyone pretty much knows Roy is my wife," Tim McCanless says in a phone interview from his home. "No one really has had a problem with it."
The issue of gay rights is really nothing new to Peoria. Last April, Peoria's City Council had a contentious debate about amending its human rights ordinance to protect gays and lesbians against discrimination. At the prodding of gay rights activists, the body voted 8-3 to change its ordinance, though one council member, Clyde Gulley Jr., seemed to speak for many when he said, "A 'yes' vote means I don't agree with people being discriminated against. That's it. It doesn't mean I agree with homosexuality. I don't."
Many people in Peoria refer to gays and lesbians as "homosexuals." For San Franciscans, the word may denote a kind of backwardness they might ascribe to the Midwest. But national figures also use the same language, and some use even harsher words to deride those they say are imposing a pro-gay agenda on other parts of the United States.
"The last time I checked, San Francisco was not a sovereign state," says Richard Land, president of the Southern Baptist Convention's Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission. Gavin Newsom, Land says in all seriousness, "should be arrested."
Legally speaking, Land's idea may be on shaky ground, but people in Peoria who oppose same-sex marriage say their views are based on solid beliefs. Broken down into categories, these views can be summarized this way:
-- Gay marriage is a sin. Dismissing evidence that suggests there are physiological factors in whether a person is gay or lesbian, Watson says gays and lesbians have deliberately chosen their "lifestyle," and that their behavior -- whether it's in private or public -- contravenes God's doctrines.
"The person who is in an alternative or homosexual lifestyle is in the same category as a man who is cheating on his wife with another woman -- it's a violation of God's law," Watson says. "God had intended that man and woman be together, to fulfill his command that we must be fruitful and multiply. That's the context of the first marriage between Adam and Eve. Homosexual marriage doesn't foster that. There is something missing. You (either) have seed but no egg, or egg but no seed."
In Peoria, Watson says, his view is not just held among the clergy and church goers but among much of the populace. "Here in Peoria," he says, "there are more leanings toward the Christian right."
-- Gay rights aren't civil rights. Many in Peoria are shocked that gay rights advocates would equate their cause with the black rights movement and other civil rights causes. Harvey Milk should not be equated with Rosa Parks, they say.
"There's no similarity between the claims of homosexuals and the civil rights claims of blacks," says Dunham, who unsuccessfully campaigned against the changes in Peoria's human rights ordinance. "If I was a black American, I'd be affronted and disgusted with that type of analogy."
Pastor Watson, who is African American, does, indeed, take issue with the comparison. "We have people saying this is a new civil rights issue; I don't think it is that type of issue because what's going on happens to be about choice," Watson says. "You choose to live that lifestyle, unlike minorities in this country. They had no choice on how they were born -- whether it's African American, Hispanic American, native American. A lot of homosexual men have been (in childhood) sexually abused by other men, or they had poor relationships with their fathers, or poor relationships with women, or they had a bad first relationship with a woman, or their first relationship might have been with another boy their age. The same can be said for homosexual women."
-- Supporters of gay marriage are tying to circumvent legal and social norms. Opponent say it's illegal for same-sex couple to marry. When it adhered to Mayor Newsom's wishes on gay weddings, San Francisco City Hall helped open the floodgates in other cities willing to break the law in the name of gay marriage.
"Homosexual groups have not only come out of the closet but have stormed the gates of all institutions," Dunham says. "They've become brazen and bold. What we're seeing is a step-by-step process that may seem disjointed and unorganized but is actually well organized and well planned."
Last year, when the Peoria City Council was debating its ordinance, a Peoria gay rights group called the Men's Network successfully lobbied council members. Its president, Douglas Drenckpohl, told a reporter afterward, "Now gay rights does play in Peoria." Drenckpohl was not available for comment on this article; his listed number in Peoria has been disconnected, and his organization's Web site hasn't been updated for a year. In another measure of the profile of gays and lesbians in Peoria, a bar there that's known for its gay clientele (Sparky's Ringside Bar & Grill) told a phone caller from San Francisco that it's "not a gay bar."
McCanless say that's not so. He says some establishments are still uneasy about admitting the truth. Sometimes, McCanless says, he feels like an isolated pioneer. He knows of many other gays and lesbians in the Peoria area, but he and Roy may be the only openly gay couple there. He says they've never been subjected to physical harassment or threats (even though they get the occasional crank caller yelling, "Faggots!") McCanless and Roy did experience pointed opposition from state officials when they wanted to legally change Roy's last name to McCanless on his driver's license, but ultimately the couple succeeded in making the switch not just on the license but on Roy's Social Security card. McCanless says people are gradually accepting their marital status.
"When I grew up," says McCanless, who was born and raised in Eureka, "I wanted to get married and have a family. I didn't know how I could do that, because they said I can't marry a guy even if I love him. But I should have just as much right to marry somebody and to receive the same benefits and opportunities that other married couples get automatically and take for granted. ...
"I'm going to have surgery in about a month, and I have already made it clear to my doctor that Roy is my spouse, and that if the hospital will not allow him in there with me to make decisions -- along with my mother -- then I'll find another hospital to do my surgery. And the doctor said, 'No. That's fine.'
"People are being forced to learn, which is a cool thing. I was at the pharmacy the other day, and this woman said to Roy, 'Oh -- you're Tim's ...' And Roy looked at her and said, 'Spouse.' And the woman said, 'Yes.' She didn't know what to say about 'husband.' I refer to him as my spouse. If someone doesn't understand, I say 'partner.' My mom refers to Roy as her son- in-law."
Last year, Watson was watching late-night TV in Peoria when he saw a commercial aimed at gay men. It was a revelation. "I'm used to in Chicago seeing the ads for 900 numbers where they advertise, 'Talk to a woman over the phone,' and those type of things," he said. "Well, I was watching (Peoria) TV one night, and they ran a commercial for a 900 number that said, 'If you're gay, bi or just curious.' My mouth dropped. I never saw that in Chicago, which is a liberal town. I come to a conservative town and I see it here. So, homosexuals are here. That commercial was out there, and it was blunt."
So, Peoria -- a Midwestern city on the banks of the Illinois River -- is changing. And its reputation as a gauge of a large cross-section American society seems to be intact.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Peoria at a glance
Population: 112,936 (according to 2000 census data)
Racial breakdown:
77,138 (69.29 percent) who identify themselves as white;
27,783 (24.79 percent) black or partially black;
2,839 (2.51 percent) Hispanic or Latino;
2,603 (2.33 percent) Asian
Median household income: $36,397
Average household size: 2.38
Economy: The city's biggest employer is Caterpillar Inc., the internationally known maker of mining and earthmoving equipment, which has its headquarters there. Peoria has gone through economic ups and downs. Nine days ago, one of Peoria's landmark downtown restaurants, The Grill on Fulton, closed because of lack of business.
Famous native sons and daughters: Comic Richard Pryor and feminist Betty Friedan, who described the city as the "middle of the middle of America." She added: "I played in Peoria, but I got out of there."
E-mail Jonathan Curiel at jcuriel@sfchronicle.com.
This article appeared on page E - 1 of the San Francisco Chronicle
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