Glenna Stearman Park, Around That Time
One year, three gay guys and I stayed up late, went downtown in San Antonio and threw rotting vegetables at the San Antonio Express News building. It was a glorious mess. The back of my van was filled with soft, over-ripe tomatoes, squash and even cantaloupe — all of which dripped down the first floor exterior of the Express News building.
Suddenly, two policemen on bicycles rode up and blocked the van as reporters and photographers poured out of the building. We four had to get out and raise our hands and lean against the van as they checked us for weapons. The cop asked me if I had any weapons, and I told him I had one more box of tomatoes in the back of the van.
Basically, they arrested the only Latino among us. I asked them if they were being racist, so they took the tall blonde guy, too. Then they told me and the other guy that we had to clean up the mess while our colleagues were arrested and placed into the police van, headed for jail.
The cops and newspaper people wanted to know why we were throwing the rotting vegetables, and we said it was in response to anti-gay-and-lesbian cartoons by the newspaper’s cartoonist. He was calling the queer community “vegefiles” because he was not allowed to call them “fruits.” It was a shameless sneer at a very active community.
Picking up garbage of our own making was a stinky and sticky job. We left the scene and went to the JumpStart theater, where we got our lawyer, Rusty Guyre, out of bed and arranged to meet him at the theater office. Rusty grabbed beer and chips and met us at 2:00 a.m. while we waited until 4:00 a.m. when the jail emptied the tank.
I got home at 6:00 a.m. in time to fix breakfast. Joel had told me 1) Not to take anything other than my driver’s license and 2) Not to wake him up — especially if I was arrested.
The boys were wide-eyed and somewhat amused. By that time, they were used to my activities.
I was amused that “vegefiles” and friends threw themselves on the mercy of the paper! It was very satisfying.
Of course, I know not to do protest work in DC or Boston. The San Antonio police were somewhat amused.
Usually for protests we had police permits, press packages, and did things that were funny and in full color.
Some of the theater work I did was classed as performance art. I studied with Alan Kaprow in graduate school and couldn’t resist ready made situations. I will continue to write about my take on this field of art work. It is usually not scripted, and in my case a bit funny and often joyfully celebrated by the audience.
