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Gay San Francisco: Eyewitness Drummer                479
             view when there was a hot news flash about a “new” Mineshaft resur-
             rected by the French in Marseille in 1995. As it turned out, Drummer was
             scooped by rival magazine, International Leatherman (September 1996),
             whose editor (in the zero degrees) was former Drummer editor Joseph
             Bean. Even so, in the  IL  “Euro-Leather” column, Bean’s history-free
             reporter Thomas Schwartz wrote about the French Mineshaft without
             mentioning the original Mineshaft or Wally Wallace or Rex whose art-
             work was badly imitated in the advertising for the Mineshaft, F.S.M.C.,
             rue Mazagran, F-13001, Marseille, France.
                Wally Wallace was insulted by both the French imitation and the
             leather-heritage omission in both Drummer and International Leatherman.
                Even as we remained friends, Wally Wallace often phoned to chat,
             bitching and wondering why Drummer wasn’t interested in his story of
             the Mineshaft. My hands were tied.
                He said, “Gays are always embarrassed by the leather community the
             way straights are embarrassed by fags.”
                We both believed that Drummer in the 1990s had been captured in
             a coup by vanilla queers. He and I both remained at a loss why Drummer
             did not want to hear his vivid oral history, because Drummer had eagerly
             published my histories of other leather luminaries such as Chuck Arnett,
             Robert Mapplethorpe, and Tony Tavarossi in my “Rear-View Mirror”
             leather-history columns.
                Ten months before DeBlase died, Wally Wallace, betrayed by gay
             culture and embittered by the century, died September 7, 1999.
                His heart clutched.
                He died in a panic to remember.
                Everything ends in panic.
                Like Magnus Bishop, my narrator in Some Dance to Remember, I was
             left holding baskets full of notes, diaries, letters, recordings, photographs,
             and videotapes.

             TER,” Wally Wallace wrote about remembrance:

                In one hundred years will anyone remember? In one hundred
                years will anybody care? Lyrics from a long ago Broadway show
                [Kander and Ebb’s Chicago (1975)] echo through my head as
                I put together this Newsletter celebrating the MINESHAFT’s
                fifth anniversary. Well, I can’t comment on one hundred years
                to come, but as far as today goes it can be said that the club is in
                the thoughts of guys the world over who have either been in the
                MINESHAFT or fantasized about it from printed word or the

           ©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved—posted 05-05-2017
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