Divine Fury (45 page)

Sloan next introduced Bobbie Connors.
 
In a eulogy that was both funny and poignant, she traced Harry Blount’s life, from a boyhood focused on sports but tempered by a powerful
 
interest in politics.
 
Gradually, the numbers Blount committed to memory shifted from the batting averages of beloved Boston Red Sox players to the changing opinion polls for swing districts for whatever election was at hand, she said.

Blount came to San Francisco, said Connors, for a Democratic workshop on campaign public relations and never left, finishing a degree in hospital management at UC Berkeley and becoming a fixture in state and national political campaigns for the next 15 years.

Connors recounted one of the first meetings she had with Blount shortly after she had first defied the San Francisco Police Department by coming out very publicly as a lesbian police officer.

“‘Bobbie,’ Harry told me.
 
‘The only people who are remembered are those who put themselves in harm’s way for something they believe in,’” recounted Connors.
 
“He said it could be people obsessed with a new technology.
 
Philosophers.
 
Tyrants.
 
It didn’t matter.
 
Those are just the people who stand out…have an impact on the world.

“‘In harm’s way,’” repeated Connors.
 
“He didn’t mean just physical harm.
 
He meant all sorts of risks – to your career, friendships, family, social standing…anything that was important to you.
 
It made me think.

“And Harry was not afraid to put himself in harm’s way,” she continued.
 
“He was ‘out’ in high school long before anyone thought it could be cool or trendy.
 
He paid the price.
 
He was beat up more than once by tough guys waiting outside bars.
 
He was blackballed by fraternities and employers.
 
That didn’t stop him.

“Politics became his life and not far behind was the gay agenda – full rights, non-discrimination, a seat at all the important tables,” Connors said.
 
“Along the way, he saw the price others had to pay. That didn’t stop him.

“He put himself in harm’s way once again on Sunday,” she continued.
 
“It was to protect someone he loved.
 
But in the larger context, it was just a part of what he was all about.
 
This whole campaign was about risk.
 
Be the first and take on the
crap
that comes with it.
 
Take on the hate.
 
The fear.
 
The anger.
 
And, the insanity that runs through our community now like a chronic disease.
    

“He was stopped finally,” said Connors.
 
“It took a bullet to the heart to do that.
 
But, Harry Blount never backed down.
 
He never blinked.
 
Remember that about Harry the next time the choices scare you.
 
When it seems too dangerous to do the right thing.
 
Remember what Harry did.
 
It was for all of us.”
 

Andrew Harper’s eyes were red and he looked exhausted.
 
He walked to the pulpit with his arm around Blount’s sister.
 
She seemed to be support that he needed.
 
Once at the pulpit, he rallied but his voice was shaky.

“Harry and I would see an older couple – a couple of guys in their 60s or 70s – walking down the street arm in arm, and I would say, ‘That’s us in 20 or 30 years,’” said Harper.
 
“And, Harry would say, ‘We should be so lucky.’

“Well, Harry.
 
I guess you were right,” said Harper.
 
“It turns out we don’t get to be that lucky.
 
But we had each other for what? More than twelve years now.
 
And that is something I thanked God for every day.

“It’s a bit of a cliché to talk about love as that total connection,” he continued.
 
“The physical with the spiritual and that intimacy where you know what the other person is thinking.
 
It becomes another part of you…like gaining another view of the world. What an amazing thing.

“I never thought I’d get that, Harry.
 
There just seemed to be so many things in the way. And when we had that, and we both could pursue the things in life we wanted to pursue…well, it seemed too good to be true.
 
Every day seemed precious.
 
I always worried something would end it.
 
One of us would fall out of love.
 
A midlife crisis.
 
The combined weight of all our choices.
 
Not having children to keep us together.

“I never dreamed it would be this,” said Harper.
 
“And, if it was…I thought it would be me…not you, Harry… not you.

“We were so fearless.
 
So goddamn fearless.
 
‘Bring it on.
 
You can’t hurt us.
 
Let the bullets bounce off.’
 
And now…and now…Oh God.
 
What have I done?
 
What have I done?”

Harper was in tears now.
 
He looked close to collapse.
 
Blount’s sister fought to hold him up.
 
Finally, a man in the front row went up and helped her. Together, they walked Harper down the stairs and to his seat.
 
His sobbing reverberated in the huge space.
 
Lee could hear many others in the congregation crying now as well.

Lee knew that the public would overlook this moment.
 
It was just proof that even governors and presidents are made of flesh.

What he wondered, though, is whether Harper would ever be able to forgive himself.

Chapter 55

Monday, June 28, 2004

IT HAD BEEN years since Lee had visited the Muir Woods, the famous stand of redwoods a short drive north of San Francisco.
 
He’d come more frequently when he was a boy.
 
But as he got older and the crowds larger, he found the number of people and the paved pathways gave the place an almost Disneyesque flavor.
 
When he needed an escape to nature, he invariably chose less busy venues.

But he realized the sidewalk-like paths gave people such as his grandmother, who needed a wheelchair to travel farther than 50 yards, a rare opportunity to wander through a mature forest.
 
And the immense redwoods that soared straight skyward seemingly without a twist or bend anywhere were quite a sight to behold.

So, he arranged to take his grandmother and Master Chu for a picnic there on this Monday as one of his wedding presents to them.
 

They married in a simple civil ceremony at San Francisco City Hall earlier in the morning.
 
He was the only one they invited to the wedding.
 
He tried to goad them into having at least a modest-sized banquet, offering to pay the cost himself.
 
After all, the Chinese way was to celebrate any halfway significant moment in life with at least a dinner, if not an all out, 12-course banquet.
 
They wanted to keep it low-key.
 
However, Lee knew the pair were in for a
 
parade of friends and relatives bearing gifts and congratulations over the next few days.

He and Lorraine had made the sandwiches in the morning.
 
They sliced the rest of the chicken she had roasted for dinner the previous night, having coating it lightly with granulated garlic, thyme, sea salt and cracked pepper before it went into the oven.
 
They used fresh baked sourdough and liberally applied Dijon mustard, mango chutney, spinach leaves and sliced heirloom tomatoes.
 
Dessert was tiramisu.

Both his grandmother and Chu wore floppy hats although he’d told them to expect chilly weather and only occasional sun filtering through the trees that topped out at more than 200 feet.
 
He wrapped a blanket around his grandmother.
 
She was so excited when they started
 
that she kept squeezing her hands as if she needed to wring the water out of them while she looked around.
  

He and Chu took turns pushing her.
 
While Chu pushed, he could see her relax until her face settled into a serene smile.
 
Occasionally, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose, savoring the smells of the forest.

After 40 minutes, they found a clearing where they sat and had their lunch.
 
Chu and his grandmother consumed every morsel of the sandwiches and tiramisu.
 
While they ate, Lee inquired politely about what changes to their living arrangements they had in mind.
 
They said they were planning no changes.

His grandmother needed the help she received at the assisted-living home and Chu couldn’t provide it.
 
They seemed to have settled this long ago so Lee let the matter drop.
 
They were old enough to figure those things out for themselves.

Throughout the morning, Lee had caught Chu with a big smile.
 
It was transitory, like an
 
ocean swell passing through his normally impassive countenance, peaking with the smile for a second or two and then receding.
   

After the lunch, his grandmother fell asleep immediately on the way back to the car.
 
Chu was content to let Lee push.
 
He went ahead of them, sweeping and gliding through some of his tai chi moves as if clearing the path of any demons or bad luck that might impede their progress.

Lee felt his cell phone vibrate.

“Hello,” said Carr.
 
“How is it going?”

“Great,” said Lee softly.
 
“They loved the sandwiches.
 
We’re heading back.
 
She’s asleep in the chair.
 
Uncle Chu is practicing his tai chi in front of us.”

“How cute,” she said.

“Right,” said Lee.
 
“Hey, are you coming by tonight?”

“I don’t know,” said Carr.
 
“What’s in it for me?”

“Well, I don’t have to work,” he said.
 
“I can make a lasagna.
 
Fresh spinach pasta.
 
Homemade marinara.
 
Sausage.
 
Lots of vegetables – zucchini, carrots, expensive mushrooms.
 
Red wine from Tuscany.
 
The rest is up to your imagination.
 
How does that sound?”

 
“Hmmm.
 
Actually, you had me at ‘lasagna.’
 
But I’ll take the rest of it, too.
 
I’ll see you at seven.”

Lee was silent for a moment.

“Hey,” he said.
 
“Don’t lie to me.”
  

“Okay.
 
Eight.”

Learn more about the world of Divine Fury and Enzo Lee!
Go to
www.robertblowe.com
where you can see real-life settings from the book
and get the background on the story.