Jerry Pritikin has lived what one might call a colorful life. Born in Santa Monica, Calif., in the 1930s, he lived for a while in Chicago before moving to San Francisco in the '60s. It was there that his life changed. He became, as he put it, 'a one-man army fighting for human, civil, equal, gay, and fan rights.'
Along the way, the photojournalist and publicist has befriended everyone from famed Cubs announcer Harry Caray to former San Francisco Mayor George Moscone and City Supervisor Harvey Milk, who were both murdered in 1978 by Dan White. He currently resides in Chicago and will be displaying various pictures he's taken over the years in an open-ended show at ( gay-owned ) Coffee Expressions, 100 W. Oak, starting Feb. 2. ( A sneak preview will happen on Jan. 18, Pritikin's birthday, 7-10 p.m. )
Windy City Times spent some time with Pritikin, a baseball fan who has earned the nickname 'Bleacher Preacher.'
Windy City Times: You were born in California. How did you end up in Illinois?
Jerry Pritikin: My parents were originally from Chicago. My father was known as The Tomato King of South Water Market. We moved into a house in Albany Park. Right after World War II, though, the neighborhood started to change because people were moving out—like all neighborhoods change.
That's actually one of my disappointments with Boystown. I know that neighborhoods don't stay the same; this [ Gold Coast district ] used to be a gay area. I think they made a mistake putting up those monuments; they're 'ghettoizing' the area.
WCT: Tell me about San Francisco.
JP: I had gone to San Francisco in 1960 and really liked it. It was really artsy and wasn't touristy like it is now. I sold jewelry and the company I worked for wanted to transfer me to San Diego; I went to stay with my parents in Florida instead.
I moved back to San Francisco with my [ then- ] lover in 1963. It was a gay-friendly town but, believe me, it wasn't a liberal town. That was the beginning of living there temporarily for over 20 years. To show that San Francisco wasn't a liberal town, I like to emphasize this: There were laws that said that if you wanted to dress in drag, you had to wear a tag stating that you were a boy—or you'd be arrested, even on Halloween.
So I started going to gay bars. There was this wonderful entertainer named Jose Sarria; he should be on a monument. He actually started gay politics. He ran for supervisor and got over 5,000 votes in [ the early '60s ] —more than 10 years before Harvey [ Milk ] won. All of a sudden, the politicians started paying attention to gays. At the bars, drag queens did most of the entertaining. Jose was at the Black Cat. Charles Pierce was a great female impersonator; he was better than the people he did, like Bette Davis. These guys were current with the news but they made things very campy.
There was a bar named the Rendezvous; it was on Sutter Street. ... One summer, the owner hired two bands: one was called ... the Grateful Dead.
WCT: No!
JP: Yes, the Dead performed in a gay bar in the '60s.
I actually wanted to get involved in Bobby Kennedy's [ presidential ] campaign. A lot of people were excited about his run. Unfortunately, he died, of course. With the killings of Bobby, his brother, and Martin Luther King, Jr., it was the politics of assassination—and it was a scary time.
People were starting to really move into the [ predominantly gay district ] Castro. A lot of people started businesses and bought these little houses. I bought another camera because people were telling me to get something better than my Instamatic. I became a freelance photographer and then a publicist.
By osmosis, I got involved in the sports scene [ in the '70s ] . People were complaining that there was nothing else to do but go to bars. So a group of people got together and started a softball league. However, things became controversial; teams wanted to win so badly that they had straight people on them. Eventually, I ended up playing with a team called Oil Can Harry's—and did publicity for it. At one point [ in 1978 ] , I pitched for a team that was kicked out of the Gay World Series because there were too many straight guys on it! I called the Associated Press and ended up going to them to tell the story about the Series. Walter Cronkite even talked about it! I also want to mention that I played in a team with [ Gay Games organizer ] Tom Waddell in 1979—and I was a better ball player than he was. [ Smiles. ]
I originally supported Harvey Milk when he ran for city supervisor. However, I started supporting [ opponent and current San Francisco district attorney ] Terrance Hallinan; he fought for civil rights in the '50s and even represented GI's who didn't want to go back to Vietnam. I ran his headquarters; I really did think he was a good guy.
WCT: Let's talk about the Julian Tavarez episode. [ Pritikin received press for speaking out against then-Cubs pitcher Tavarez, who, in 2001, called SF Giants fans 'faggots.' Tavarez apologized. ]
JP: In all my years as a person going to Cubs fans, I only raised my rainbow flag a couple of times. One time was when someone yelled at me, 'Hey Pritikin! How come, every time I see you, you're with a bunch of young guys?' I yelled back, 'Are you jealous?'
The other time was in 2001. I saw what Tavarez said. I called the Chicago Tribune [ which owns the Cubs ] and said that they should find out how gay people felt about that remark. The paper sent a reporter out to the ballpark. Later, I called the Chicago Sun-Times. I told them that I wanted to speak out as a Cubs fan and as a gay person. Columnist Jay Mariotti called me back and I suggested that Tavarez apologize to gay fans during 'Gay Day' at Wrigley Field and that he should contribute to gay community centers around the country. Jay published it but also put it in The Sporting News—and I started getting calls from all over the country.
WCT: You also criticized Chicago Tribune columnist John Kass about his column condemning the partygoers in that YMCA controversy. [ Cross-dressing party attendees and parents of child swimmers clashed Dec. 19 at the New City YMCA. ]
JP: The stories that were printed made it look like there was an orgy. It wasn't the [ party attendees' ] fault; they had the place rented. They had a legitimate reason to be there; you don't change the rules after the game starts. The whole situation made me think of how drag queens led the charge—and also helped us forget our problems through entertaining—back in the '60s.
WCT: Tell me about your photo show.
JP: What I like to show are what I call 'photoglyphics'—they're photos with words with meanings that are either subliminal or that shOUT [ Pritikin's spelling ] . There are two pictures that I particularly want to use in this show. One shows a man dressed in drag passing out brochures that read 'Sissies are an endangered species' under an awning that reads 'Fruit Bowl.' The other photo—which was supposed to be on the cover of a gay magazine in 1978—shows two guys in softball uniforms [ one of whom is Pritikin ] . I want to use the pictures in a survey to find out if people can identify who's gay and who's straight.
