THE VOICE OF CHICAGO'S GAY, LESBIAN, BI, TRANS AND QUEER COMMUNITY SINCE 1985

Lochman was born May 24, 1916, in Springfield, Ill.; his family moved to Chicago during his high school years. He attended the University of Chicago High School and ultimately remained there 17 years, eventually attending the medical school there. Lochman served an internship at St. Joseph's Hospital in Milwaukee. It was in that city where he met his future wife, Sabra Ericson; they married in 1945. However, before then, Lochman was invited to take a commission in the United States Army Medical Corps during World War II; he served until the end of that conflict. After the war, he commenced a radiology residency at the University of Chicago and ultimately became a physician and an academic. Lochman and his family moved to Wilmette until 1973, when Sabra passed away. With his children out of the house and his wife gone, Lochman moved back to Chicago.

Despite all of the brave things he had done, Lochman probably made his most intrepid moves when he came out, retired from his professions, and became a gay activist as a senior citizen. He became heavily involved in the GLBT community. As Canon James Rosenthal—who delivered the sermon at the mass—told Windy City Times about Lochman's change and selflessness: 'He had a chance to become a new person and he had the support of his family. With David, you could never define what a family was to him because he would bring in more people. Race and background didn't matter.' Among the groups Lochman supported were the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation ( GLAAD ) and the gay Episcopalian group Integrity/Chicago.

Asked what he remembered most about Lochman, Rosenthal said, 'David Lochman was the kind of man who liked to challenge the status quo.' The canon then added that Lochman 'was a man of great dignity and generosity. He used his wealth for the benefit for many people [ and ] especially—in his later years after his own coming out—for the gay community and with organizations connected with HIV/AIDS.' Rosenthal then recalled one of those times when Lochman challenged the existing state of affairs regarding society and the church. 'A man of [ Lochman's ] caliber would go to very elite events and challenge the whole system by introducing same-sex dancing. It was interesting because people really couldn't tell him to sit down—but he had that way [ about him ] ; he wore colorful clothes and was an established doctor, but he liked to shock the system.'

Patrick Cain, Lochman's caregiver for the last six years of his life, revealed more fascinating details about the doctor. 'Going grocery shopping with David was interesting,' Cain said, thinking of his favorite memory. 'He would wear his white shirt, suit, and bowtie, just like he was going to the office. He was certainly organized; he would rank grocery list items by which department we would come to first in the store,' he added with a chuckle. However, befitting a man as multifaceted as Lochman, Cain detailed other aspects of the physician's life that were very different but generated no less interest. 'For instance,' he said, 'it was years before I knew he was a veteran. He didn't have any wartime pictures of himself around.' When ending the conversation, Cain said something that somehow had already seemed evident: 'He really was not one to talk about his accomplishments.'

Talking with those close to him, one can certainly dismiss the notion that David Lochman was the type of person who sought attention for himself. However, given the scope of the things he did and the people he helped, he most definitely deserved it. Perhaps Cain put things best when he said that Lochman has 'left a hell of a legacy.'

Memorial gifts may be made to Center on Halsted/Horizons Community Services, 961 W. Montana St., Chicago, IL 60614 or to the St. James Cathedral Memorial Fund, 65 E. Huron St., Chicago, IL 60611.