Not Marching Together

Maybe the happiest moment of David Mixner's life came a year ago, when he introduced his old friend Bill Clinton to 700 celebratory gays at the Hollywood dance club Palace. This was going to be the first President to fight for gay civil rights, and Mixner was going to be his main man on those issues, advising and orchestrating outreach the way he does for Fortune 500 companies in his thriving business life. The candidate, for whom Mixner helped raise $3.5 million in gay support, responded passionately. "I have a vision of the future, and you are a part of it."

A more ambivalent moment in Mixner's life came this month, when Clinton became the first President to meet with an all-gay group at the White House. Mixner wasn't there, in part because of his own suggestion that the invitations go to the heads of major gay organizations. Yet his absence was symbolically correct. He has damaged his relationship with Clinton, some people fear irreparably, by criticizing Clinton for backpedaling over gay military service. Just when Mixner seemed poised to become the unofficial head of a community that has never had a Martin Luther King Jr. or a Jesse Jackson -- although plenty of Eldridge Cleavers and Al Sharptons -- he ceased to be its pre-eminent symbol of mainstream access to power. He is still, to be sure, a pal of Ted Kennedy's, who has offered to sponsor gay civil rights legislation in the Senate. But the White House is indispensable, and right now, Mixner is no insider there.

The rift between the two activists from the Vietnam antiwar movement epitomizes the ambivalence many gays felt last week as they gathered for Sunday's march in Washington. Clinton is the most important friend gays have, but not the uncompromising advocate they want. Do they settle for whatever he offers, recognizing that other quarters of government are bound to be less helpful? Or do they fight for what they want and risk alienating their vital ally?

For Mixner, the decision to speak up was painful but inescapable. As a practicing politician, he was less surprised than other gay leaders by the postelection outcry against Clinton's proposal to lift the ban on homosexuals in the military, which caused barely a murmur during the campaign. Rather than demand that the President sign an Executive Order as pledged, Mixner collaborated with the White House in shaping a compromise.

Mixner was aghast, however, when Clinton offhandedly suggested that he might be open to treating gays in uniform differently from heterosexuals: giving them special assignments or separate accommodation, and requiring them to keep their sexual preference in the closet. This idea would have denied gays what they seek and what their critics want to withhold: recognition as a legitimate part of the community. Mixner telephoned the White House repeatedly to express his disapproval, but his calls were not returned. When he spoke at a gay- oriented church and agreed to appear on ABC's Nightline, a White House aide tried to scare him off with implicit threats of ostracism. But at a subsequent meeting with gay leaders, Clinton left them optimistic that he would lift the ban.