Milk Page #3

lawyer sidekick, Rick Stokes.

David was a rich old queen who had bought

the biggest gay magazine, The Advocate.

Hello.

- Hello, welcome to Mr. Goodstein's.

Milo.

I worked for a financial

institution in New York.

I was very discreet.

One night I went to

the Metropolitan Opera,

Il Trovatore, Verdi.

I was sitting in a

box, next to my lover.

Someone spotted us.

Next day I was fired.

So I decided to do

something about it.

Came out here to San Francisco,

I bought The Advocate.

I use my money and my influence, in very

subtle and quiet ways, to do what I can.

So you think that backing

straight candidates

is the best

way to help us?

Yeah, if they're

friendly to our cause.

Supervisor is

a citywide office.

Political alliances

have to be built.

You can't just move here from across

the country and run for that office.

But I am running for office.

I'm on the ballot.

I have the union rank and

file, I have the seniors.

And I would like to have

your magazine's endorsement.

Harvey, we're like

the Catholic church.

We welcome converts, but we

don't make them Pope the same day.

Why haven't you run yet?

Too early.

Especially from the Castro.

What's wrong

with the Castro?

Nobody works there.

It's all about sex and drugs and more sex.

David, we need one

of our own in office.

Harvey, you can't demand

acceptance overnight.

Why not?

The more "out" you make us,

the more you incite them.

Harvey, step back and quiet down.

You're suggesting we should

go back in the closet?

Is that what

you're saying?

I spent more years in the

closet than I care to remember.

Let's go, Scott.

- Yeah.

I don't need your

magazine's endorsement.

And I'm not asking for anyone's

acceptance. I don't have time.

For you,

politics is a game, a lark.

It's like putting on a rock

festival or staging a love-in.

You're too old to be

a hippie, Harvey Milk.

I am not a candidate.

I am part of a movement.

The movement is the candidate.

There is a difference.

You don't see it,

but I do.

Sorry, I, uh,

pissed in the pool.

So, on election day, out of 32

candidates vying for six seats,

we came in tenth.

We lost.

But only a few votes shy of my becoming

the first big eared, cock-sucking,

queer as a

three-dollar-bill-man

to be elected

to public office.

So we decided to

try it again in 1975.

Only this time,

with a few adjustments.

No. No, not cute.

I hate the shoes.

I hate the hair.

You're not fooling anybody.

I'm not gonna let those

little Pacific Heights biddies

write me off anymore because

of a ponytail. I like it.

No more bathhouses, no more

pot, for me and my little poo.

Speak for yourself.

- Come on.

We ran and lost the supervisor's

race for the second time in 1975,

but with more votes

than ever before.

So in 1976,

against everyone's advice,

I really pissed off

the political power houses

in the Democratic party by

running against their man,

Art Agnos, who was part

of their political machine.

And this time, not for

supervisor, but for a bigger job,

for the California

State Assembly.

I don't think that State Assembly

seats should be the reward

for service to the

Democratic party machine.

Machines run on oil and grease.

They're dirty.

They're dehumanizing. And they

tend to be entirely unresponsive

to the needs of anybody,

but those of their operator.

Mr. Milk, I've been a social

worker in this city for years.

I know Sacramento.

I know how to get done

what we all need done there.

Tell me something, Mr. Agnos,

right here in the Castro,

Robert Hillsbourough was murdered for

walking home with his longtime partner.

He was stabbed 15 times.

The last words he heard were,

"F*ggot, f*ggot, f*ggot."

Now, you say

you're outraged.

Why then does your liberal

establishment refuse to answer our calls?

Why do they not bring

these murderers to justice?

My God, you're

handsome up close.

Can't tell you how much I'm

looking forward to licking you,

in the polls.

You know, Harv, your

whole rap's a real downer.

You talk a lot about

what you're against.

But what are you for?

In this town, you got to give them a

reason for optimism, or you're cooked.

See you around.

Okay, Art.

You're gonna wanna

read that entire thing.

Okay,

I'll take a look at it.

Excuse me.

Guys.

- Don't touch that.

Harvey. Harvey, dinner.

- have to get some union boys in there.

They love me, they love me.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Harvey, you have to eat.

Everyone, the apartment

is now off limits!

Good night.

Good night.

Good night.

Whose jacket is this?

Right here.

- Here you go. Good night.

Down the stairs.

Thank you. Thank you.

Good night. Thank you.

I think you got to call the

guy, 'cause I can't talk to that guy.

Sit.

Don't say anything.

Can I just tell you...

If you say anything about

politics or the campaign,

or what speech you

have to give or anything,

I swear to God I'm gonna

stab you with this fork.

I just wanted to say that this is the

most wonderful dinner I have ever had.

If we lose this, it'll

just be you and me again.

I promise.

I'm sorry, I just...

No, I know.

I know, I know.

Phoenix.

At least now

you look gay.

Let's go inside.

Are you

staying up with me?

The election's tomorrow.

I won't sleep anyway.

Was he handsome?

Oh, no!

He was hideous.

Usually when my lovers leave, they

cheat with even more attractive men.

I actually thought we were gonna

spend the rest of our lives together.

Well, guess what,

Cleve Jones.

What?

You're going to meet the

most extraordinary men,

the sexiest, funniest,

brightest men.

You're going to meet so many of them,

fall in love with so many of them,

you won't know till

the end of your life

which ones were your greatest lovers

and which were your greatest friends.

Is that supposed to help?

Maybe a little. Or not.

I went to

Spain last month.

Long story.

In Barcelona, there

was this memorial march

for gay people that

had died under Franco.

Of course, the police

tried to break it up.

But these queens didn't run.

No.

They turned around and

they started a f***ing riot.

I saw a bullet, one of

those big rubber bullets

rip through a drag queen's

scalp, but she kept on fighting.

She was screaming,

but she kept on fighting.

I mean...

Our lives.

There was blood literally

running in the gutter.

In a gutter.

We could have

a revolution here.

But you can't use the

Castro just to cruise.

You have to fight.

You really think you'll win?

Winning is

not my strong suit.

Well,

I don't do losing, ever.

Maybe I should run for office

and you can work for me.

I mean, if you can do it...

Can you assemble a

thousand people in an hour?

F***, yeah.

Well, if I run again,

you're gonna be my man.

If?

You're so adorable.

The polls are open in 3 hours.

How about you and

I hit the bus stops?

Okay.

Yes, Jesus

Loves me

Anita Bryant was once

known as an orange juice saleswoman.

Hi, I'm Anita Bryant.

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