Remembering Milk at Pride Breakfast
Curious heads peeked over the railing from hallways overlooking the atrium of the Hyatt Regency Embarcadero. Their hotel room doors gazed down a breezy second-floor lobby, a lobby that had been taken over by hundreds of early risers glad-handing in political buttons and rainbow boas. Dozens of banquet tables were splayed across the tiled floor, designed for anything but a formal gathering for 800 people. I took my seat at Table 30, right next to one of the most interesting women at breakfast.
Every year, San Francisco’s Alice B. Toklas Democratic Club throws an enormous $125-per-person breakfast prior to the San Francisco Pride Parade, and every year, I attend at the gracious invitation of a local politician. The Alice Pride Breakfast is a who’s who of elected officials and community activists — at least the city’s more moderate ones. Progressives tend to eschew the Toklas Democratic Club and stick to the Harvey Milk Democratic Club’s events. Anyway, the annual early morning Alice Pride Breakfast is always good for an interesting interaction with a politician. I once shared a plate of potstickers with Gov. Jerry Brown, who called me “Bess” all morning.
This year, I accepted an invite from Assemblyman Phil Ting, D-San Francisco, host of Table 30. So did Carol Ruth Silver, a former San Francisco supervisor. I introduced myself and announced the obvious, “You worked with Harvey Milk!”
“Yes, he was my best friend on the board.” the grandmother and activist said with a smile. She sported a sun hat and bright pink eyeglass frames. Around her waist, Silver wore a fanny pack. “My seat at meetings was right in between Harvey Milk and Dan White. I used to pass notes between them.”
Silver seemed happy to share her San Francisco history, even though she’s told these same gripping stories for decades. As Silver casually mentioned that her co-worker White planned to murder her on that tragic day in 1978, along with assassinating Milk and Mayor George Moscone, I had to ask. “Did you know Dan White was nuts?”
“I don’t think Dan White was nuts,” she said after thinking about it for a minute. “I think he was mean. He was a bully.”
Silver served three terms on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors, from 1977 to 1989, a working lawyer and a single mother through it all. She now works with organizations that promote education for women in Afghanistan and has written a book about her time in a Mississippi jail as a freedom rider during the civil rights movement. Silver also has written a book, “Self Defense Handgun Ownership and the Independence of Women in a Violent Sexist Society,” which had me wondering what was in that fanny pack. She was, it should be obvious, a fascinating breakfast companion.
After years in the lobby of the Rincon Center — which included the added perk of watching elected officials stumble into the fountain — the Alice Pride Breakfast moved to the Hyatt’s ballroom. This year, however, another group had booked the ballroom, so the likes of state Sen. Scott Wiener, D-San Francisco, and California Attorney General Xavier Becerra had to scream across the atrium lobby like camp counselors trying to wrangle rowdy teens. Outside, hundreds were lining up floats and contingents to begin the Pride Parade.
Silver planned to march with Assemblyman Ting. “Gavin Newsom asked me to march with him,” she explained, “but he sends me too many emails asking for money.”
The candidate for governor seemed to be doing OK without her. Newsom rode through the parade in a BMW convertible followed by a team of gorgeous supporters in rainbow “Gavin” T-shirts.
It was inspiring to glean history from Silver and see her continued commitment to activism. She cheered on the morning’s righteous speeches, showing particular enthusiasm for the breakfast’s women honorees; Roma Guy, Cecilia Chang, Diane Jones and Judge LaDoris Cordell. The day’s theme was a resistance to the presidential administration, and it applied not just to the LBGTQ community, but to women and minorities and anyone else getting the shaft from the White House. The crowd was amped up and angry.
I went back to quizzing Silver on her time working with Milk, the city’s first openly gay official, and White. “Have you seen ‘Hamilton’?” she asked, referencing the Broadway hit that’s in town. “You know that song about ‘the room where it happens?’ ” Silver beamed. “Well, I was in the room where it happened.”
“My seat at meetings was right in between Harvey Milk and Dan White. I used to pass notes between them.” Carol Ruth Silver, former S.F. supervisor