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 Over the past couple of years I’ve had two main beats for Spangle: the arts and bars. Stick to what you know best, I suppose. And while I’ve enjoyed combining the two and providing you, dear readers, with boozy coverage of events such as Cleveland Public Theatre’s Pandemonium and frequent openings at the late Asterisk Gallery, I didn’t begin my Spangle career as an event scribe.
Rather, I wrote a handy, homotastic how-to series branded The Marshall Plan by our clever editor in chief.
With Spangle going dark, I thought it best to go out the way I stepped in. Here are some “plans” that give an inside look at what Spangle has come to mean to this boozy, artsy, attention-loving writer — as well as some behind-the-scenes dish on this digital publication.
The Marshall Plan for Surrounding Yourself with Douche Bags
Spangle built up a nice reputation in the arts community after a couple of years. One day, we were asked to cover a major institution’s annual gala event. I was assigned the story and was looking forward to attending, as I had never been to this event before.
And I will never go again.
While the place was packed and it was an obvious success for the host organization, I have never been surrounded by so many homogenous, suburban dingbats in my life. All the men were like “Where do you golf? Where do you golf? Where do you golf?” to each other, while the women were all “Where do you tan? Where do you tan? Where do you tan?”
I wasn’t hard on the event in my review that ran the following week, but those who know me well could read between the lines to see that I didn’t have a great time. What was the event? My lips are sealed. But it’s one of the few annual events in Cleveland I only covered once.
The Marshall Plan for Getting Censored
This one is easy: Write articles that either feature obscure slang terms for female genitals or write an article about a lesbian rock band whose hit song is about inserting a body part that rhymes with “gist” into female genitals.
If you are still reading this article, here’s the explanation: The latter was a preview of local music group Early Girl and the debut of their first CD. The key single was called “Cookie Jar.” (Think about it.)
The former was when I embarked on an epic quest to find a good drink at a gay bar, and was served something at Bounce called a [really strange, yet cute in a weird sort of way, yet ultimately not printable euphemism for lady parts].
These were the only two times I’ve been censored, and it wasn’t out of Puritanism or femme-phobia or sexism, but fear of offending women and scaring the shit out of our advertisers. A wise move for all (but if you want to find out the name of that drink, order one from Mike at Union Station).
The Marshall Plan for Apologizing for Good Intentions
Right when Spangle was really taking off, I decided to go back to school and pursue a master’s degree, and soon after switched jobs. This reduced my available time to write for Spangle dramatically. I’d post a story here and there about an event, but for the most part took a sabbatical until last month when I finished my graduate program.
Unfortunately, this meant I was never able to interview some people I met around town who had very interesting stories to tell. Among them are Zoe Renee Jackson, an out transgender visual artist and DJ who brings big city beats to Cleveland through her unique Eclectic Circus dance parties each month. She. Is. Amazing.
There’s also United States congressional staffer Max Blachman, who combines vast inside knowledge of the LGBT political climate and natural leadership flare with an easy-going charm.
And Jason Kelly, Cleveland’s leading make-up artist, who’s also one heck of a kind person, was always at the top of my “when I have time I really want to interview this person” list.
Sorry folks — but you’re all such superstars, the loss is really only mine.
The Marshall Plan for Interviewing a Lesbian Rock Powerhouse
I interviewed Melissa Etheridge when she was in town to stump for Dennis Kucinich in 2008. I had my questions drafted ahead of time and got the proper approval from her reps. I was ready to come through her window and leave with a juicy story on celebrities who, well, stump for politicians.
That ambition, though, flew out the window the moment I sat down next to her and she looked at me with starry eyes and said, “You write for something called Spangle? Spangle? That’s so cute. Spangle!”
“Oh my God — I’m in love with the way Melissa Etheridge says ‘Spangle!’”
Seriously. It was all I could think about.
I still did the interview, but was totally under her spell. I mean, I was a fan, but really wanted to get to the nitty-gritty of how show biz stars balance their political and personal lives, but what I ended up writing was a love letter to a talented sister who twitched her nose in the most adorable way every time she said the name of this website. Homo media bias indeed.
The Marshall Plan for Bucking the Trend
We walked a fine line at Spangle, covering items of interest to the gay community but that weren’t necessarily gay, while also reporting on parts of the gay community that generated headlines in the non-gay world, like the Gay Games. Nevertheless, for some people, we were either “too gay” or “not gay enough.”
I agree, because we’re queer.
Spangle pretty much broke the mold for LGBT media in this town, and I’m proud to have been a part of that. What we covered is proof that queer folks are whole human beings. We didn’t cover something because we’re gay or because it was gay. We covered something because if we wouldn’t have had to write about it, we’d have to be doing it (or avoiding it, if our exes were there).
Bottom line: Cleveland has a lot to offer the queers — and vice versa. And that’s the story we wanted to tell.
The Marshall Plan for Knowing When to Shut the Hell Up
I don’t write opinion columns, as I firmly believe in letting others shape my worldview for me. Besides, Spangler Maria Miranda is a dream of a columnist, and she’s brought a lot of great (and irate) readers to the fold. But if I had to write an opinion column, it would start like this:
“Shut up. Yes, you. Shut the fuck up. Okay, not you reading this article, per se. Unless you are a member of a local LGBT organization whose email list has become a hotbed of rumors and drama about other LGBT organizations. So, yeah, in that case: Shut up.”
Here’s the deal: People in a certain organization don’t seem to realize that email can be forwarded. Widely. A few select members would send emails containing hearsay or rumors to its contact list, which was supposed to be used for important matters. Instead, the rumors would snowball. And if there weren’t rumors, there were super snarky comments about people, places and things about which the authors of such muck had absolutely no clue.
Now, I must say the rumors were never about me or Spangle, but about other happenings and individuals in Greater Cleveland’s queerdom. Nevertheless, it was pretty shitty to lose respect for this organization and some of its key members.
I realize that “Gay people say catty things” is not a breaking news headline, but there’s a time and place for gossip — your group’s email list isn’t one of them. People will lose respect for you and will soon only associate your group with advancing drama, not our community.
So, if you are reading this and the shoe fits: Shut up.
The Marshall Plan for Getting Over it and Moving Forward
Spangle came to me at the right time. A couple of years after I left my six-year term as the communications director of the LGBT Center of Greater Cleveland, I felt as if I had lost my connection to the community.
Also around this time, I survived a heart attack, and eventually bounced back with a desire to live life to its fullest, since mine almost ended. (I also lost 117 pounds and felt super-comfortable going to parties and working the room all of a sudden.)
So then came the offer to contribute to Spangle. I’d get to be part of another LGBT organization and cover the arts (my first love), bars, events and nightlife (my new, emerging second love) and I’d get to write, something I wasn’t doing enough of at the time.
There was just one thing: The founder of Spangle, the man before me who asked me to come aboard, was Brian Thornton, a former co-worker with whom I had a bit of a falling out. Or a big falling out, depending on whom and when you ask.
He was sincere, and I wanted the opportunity. So I took a chance.
And am glad I did.
Not just because I got to use Spangle as my vehicle for shining a light on my favorite parts of Cleveland, but because I quickly learned that Brian Thornton is one cool guy. No one in Cleveland has his determination to see a job through and to make sure it’s perfect in every way.
Read: Nobody could have pulled off producing Spangle for these past years like him.
It was common for weeks to go by and Brian’s byline would be the only one you’d see article after article. And, damn, can he edit. Anything I ever wrote for Spangle that was vaguely interesting or funny was because of him. He’d whip my word salad into the tastiest of pixilated thoughts.
It’s been a good match, and we’ve had a great run. And, looking back, I feel very grown up that I steered clear of Petty Road and joined up with Brian and the others to contribute to Spangle.
I’d like my last words in Spangle to echo that sentiment. There have been too many recent headlines about infighting in our community. Why’d you bother coming out of the closet if you are just going to hate on your own people? Where’s the pride in that? So, the final Marshall Plan is as follows:
1) See the previous plan, and shut up.
2) Drama doesn’t get you what you want. It might help a three-year-old get what he wants, but it really only makes grown adults look like idiots.
3) No one is gayer or more queer or more “dedicated to the movement” than anyone else. But, there are people who are more reasonable, kinder and more accessible than others. And those people do well for themselves — or at least better than the haters.
4) Don’t give the Right want they want: a dysfunctional LGBT community that is so caught up in its own juvenile shenanigans it can’t focus on, ya know, getting full equal rights or not being gay-bashed within an inch of death.
5) Always end things on a high note.
Thanks for reading, folks!
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