Phyllis Lyon and Del Martin spoke and answered questions with the people attending the Center's showing of No Secret Anymore.

On December 22nd the LGBT Community Center proudly presented legendary lesbians Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon in person at an exclusive screening of the documentary, No Secret Anymore, with a special holiday celebration of this year's victories for equality and justice for all. The event honored who many would consider the most renowned lesbian couple since Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas. As founders of the modern lesbian civil rights movement, Martin and Lyon have been partners in love and political activism for half a century.

Directed by internationally recognized documentary artist JEB (Joan E. Biren), the film tenderly chronicles their enduring passion and activism through archival photographs, interviews, and cinematic surprises. The world premiere sold out at the Castro Theater in February, and the film has not been seen in San Francisco since June. After the screening, the couple held a Q&A with the audience.

One woman, 86 years old, commented on how impressed she was at the courage shown by the couple “way back then” to be who they were so openly and with such pride. “What would we have done if they hadn’t been so open?” she questioned. “Back in those days, we were aware we were taking a risk, but we did it anyway,” said Martin. Lyon said during those frightening times, cops would arrive unannounced and “scoop everybody up into paddy wagons,” and they would have to go to court and plead guilty of being homosexual, with the incident recorded in the newspapers. Eventually the arraigned people realized they could plead no contest instead of guilty, thereby avoiding an automatic guilty sentence.

Wayne Marshall Jones, coordinator of the monthly LGBT movie screenings, commented, “Because life is so different now, it’s hard to imagine what it was like to be in a lesbian bar and be in fear of being arrested just for wearing pants.” Lyon responded, “San Francisco is very different from the rest of the world, and we have to realize that there are places that are experiencing the same fear now that we did decades ago.” She cited the recent arrest of the men on a boat in Egypt who were incarcerated for being in an “allegedly gay” nightclub establishment. Jones said there would be a film showing in the coming weeks addressing that very problem, and to also watch for the upcoming announcement of “Radical Harmony—the Women’s Movement Musical.”

Lyon said she and Martin were a little wary of having their home address printed in a publication, “The Velvet Touch,” about various outlets regarding alternative sexuality available to the interested public. “But thankfully we didn’t receive any nasty letters, just invitations to speak at events,” said Lyon. “Later on we did get a lot of letters from people who were praying for us, and we thought that would be okay—prayer never hurt anyone.” She said there was one incident when someone wrote and angrily demanded they take their daughter’s name off the mailing list for Daughters of Bilitis, the pro-lesbian group they co-founded. The trouble was, Lyon said with a laugh, the writer forgot to tell them who they were, what the daughter’s name was, and what her address was. The letter was written anonymously.

An audience member, Bill, wanted to know how they kept their self-esteem to know “they were always right.” Lyon joked, “Well, that was easy; Del thought she was God!”

Lyon spoke of the very early years and how she eventually got up the nerve to move in with Martin, convincing her to leave Seattle and rent a Castro apartment with her for $65 a month. “We wore flannel shirts and jeans, and it suddenly occurred to me that people might think we were lesbians,” said Lyon with a snicker. She said she felt like a deer caught in headlights when she was dancing in a Castro bar and a man asked her if she was a dyke. When they went to the bars, she said at first they felt like tourists and wished one of the cliquey lesbians would come over and introduce themselves. Finally they got more assertive and well known in the community, ultimately becoming greatly respected leaders of the lesbian movement.

When asked if they ever get hate email these days, they replied that the only hateful thing they receive over the Internet is spam. “I can’t tell you how many bothersome emails I get that are about enlarging my penis, getting cheap Viagra, and helping out a Nigerian king by revealing my bank account number,” said Martin with a scowl. 

They spoke of connecting with the Rev. Ted McIlvenna and the Council on Homosexuality at Glide Memorial and the January 1965 Ball at California Hall, that was considered San Francisco’s version of the Stonewall riots, even though there were no riots at the Ball. “That was a turning point for San Francisco,” said Lyon. Someone suggested that the White Night Riots was really SF’s Stonewall. “No dear, it was the Ball,” said Lyon. “You boys always want riots. I recall reading in the Philadelphia gay press that someone wrote a letter to the editor about White Night, claiming they could stage much better riots than ours.” The audience laughed heartily.

“Is it true you take phone calls all hours of the night?” someone asked. “Not any more!” Lyon retorted with a laugh. Jones then presented the couple with a token of esteem, a cable car music box playing “I Left My Heart in San Francisco."