Ten Years Ago, A Night To Make History
It was a night before the Supreme Court legalized same-sex marriage nationwide, a night before the site of the Stonewall Rebellion, which birthed the modern LGBTQ rights movement became a National Monument under the US Park Service, and a night before trans men and women were finally allowed to serve as their true gender identity in the military. Yet, on June 25, 2014, history was made, fabulously, as New York City’s world-renowned Carnegie Hall hosted the first-ever LGBTQ Pride Concert, headlining Tona Brown, the first Black, openly trans woman to perform at this storied venue, alongside popular lesbian comedienne Tammy Peay, pianist Charlie Gilmer, and yours truly.
The road to that magical evening on 57th Street began in the fall of 2013, when I suggested to Tona that her talents were worthy of a Carnegie Hall performance. By then, Tona had distinguished herself as a gifted mezzo-soprano and violinist. A couple of years before, while covering President Obama’s LGBTQ fundraiser just a few blocks from Carnegie Hall, I had the privilege of watching her sing the National Anthem for the Chief Executive. I felt that her time to step out on that incomparable stage in the Weill Recital Hall was a logical next step in her career.
Tona readily agreed, and I reached out to Carnegie Hall with my proposal. Through the good offices of Tona and her company, Aida Studios, seed money for the basics was made available, and we were on our way. Enlisting the accompaniment of Tammy and Charlie to complete our cast, the show began to take shape. Entitled From Stonewall To Carnegie Hall, it was, like the famous uprising, meant to upset the apple cart, and make our audience witnesses to history.
Along the way, we were privileged to gain the support of the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD), which got us to our budgetary goal with a dedicated IndieGoGo campaign, and The Trevor Project, which featured a preview performance by Tona, just a few days prior to the big night. (A highlight for me was meeting perennial funnywoman Wanda Sykes, who hosted the event.) We upcoming performers duly got the word out: NY1’s plank-owning anchor, Cheryl Wills interviewed Tona and I at length; Tona then went on Sirius XM radio, and media gencies the world over also picked up the story. This was history, a great advance forward for LGBTQ people in the performing arts, and we felt such a milestone deserved a loud announcement.
The anticipation grew as the night of nights drew near; one indelible memory of the weeks of preparation was an early site visit to Carnegie, the houee manager reminded me that I was walking on almost the very spot where Ella Fitzgerald performed her final show. I got chills. If, as theater lore has it, this hall is indeed haunted, imagine the conversations that might be had with its timeless, legendary ghosts. We would be standing in the shadow of greatness many times over, just to have the opportunity to occupy that stage. As the hall filled up with a veritable Who’s Who of the LGBTQ community, Tona was dazzling in a flowing signature purple and black evening dress by Robert E. Knight, complete with a cape by Adrian Alicea. Tona’s hair was expertly coiffed by Natalie Birdsong, and her makeup was impeccably applied by James Toribio. I watched backstage, as fashionista Christian Ruart and NYC Black Pride chief exec Lee Soulja did her finishing touches. Adrian also created Tammy’s rose gown, while Charlie and I wore the usual, dour tuxes suitable for such an evening. (Mine was by Mur-Lee’s out on Long Island.) I remember such luminaries as celebrity fashion designer Marco Hall, Pose creator Janet Mock, and even award-winning filmmaker Nathan Hale Williams taking their seats, and their presence among many other luminaries made our experience a true once-in-a-lifetime interlude.
Finally, the moment was upon us: out onto the boards we strode, around one of Carnegie’s famous Steinway grands, (they’re tuned to perfection, before every performance, without exception). Between Tona’s absolutely captivating songs or violin solos, I walked our audience through the historical path that had led us, in a winding way (but ever forward!) from 1969 to 2014, while Tammy gave us laughter to lighten up the concert, as only she could. Charlie’s fingers did that big Steinway’s keys justice throughout. There is a marvelous kind of enchantment that comes with appearing on such an iconic stage; time hangs suspended, and you live right there in the instant. All the world understands what an institution Carnegie Hall is, and since the day it opened, that red building on the corner of Seventh Avenue and 57th Street has stood for progress in the arts and society: Dr. Martin Luther King was honored here, within these walls Marian Anderson made song her passion for seven decades, and Carnegie hall opened in 1891 with a concert conducted by none other than the immortal, gay composer Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky himself.
Imagine performing where giants like these held sway! That’s what makes this venue so irrepressibly elegant, why no other place would do, for us to write a little history of our own, as if to say, “through opprobrium and hardship, nevertheless here we are”. We had some more help along the way: our friend and encourager Jason Duval Hunter, of stage and television, trans advocate Jevon Martin, longtime gay radio host DJ Baker, and WWRL program manager and Out And About host John Campanario, who lent support during the long period of pre-production.
In the decade since, I’ve written thousands of articles, done plays, and appeared on radio and TV, almost always covering the LGBTQ community. Yet, that one priceless evening in the lights of the Weill, with Tona, and Charlie, and Tammy, still shines brightly in my memory. I am old now, and other memories of other nights have receded with the dim overlay that age brings, but not our one night, when we opened a page of history, for all the rainbow’s children to see. What a thing to dream about!
