Local
Frank Kameny’s sole heir speaks out
Housemate, friend of 19 years was ‘family member’ unknown to gay leader’s associates

Timothy Clark, 35, was named the sole beneficiary of Frank Kameny’s estate except for his papers, which Kameny bequeathed to the Library of Congress. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)
Editor’s note: This is the first installment of a two-part report. Next week: More on Timothy Clark and his long association with Frank Kameny.
While nationally acclaimed gay rights pioneer Franklin E. Kameny collaborated in his later years with fellow activists and national politicians and attended events at the White House, Timothy Lamont Clark says he prepared Kameny’s breakfast and dinner in the privacy of Kameny’s home.
Virtually unknown to Kameny’s circle of friends and political associates in the LGBT rights movement, Kameny named Clark, 35, in his will as the sole beneficiary of his estate except for his papers, which he bequeathed to the Library of Congress.
He also named Clark in the will, filed in 2007, as the personal representative of his estate, a position similar to an executor that has full authority to decide how the estate’s assets and possessions should be managed.
Kameny died in October 2011, leaving behind what LGBT activists and civil rights leaders who knew him called a 50-year legacy as one of the nation’s preeminent architects and advocates for LGBT equality.
Clark says he began a 19-year friendship with Kameny when he was 15 years old, after calling the Gay Information hotline that Kameny operated out of his home in 1991.
Clark says he was living with his grandmother in Southeast D.C. at the time and was struggling to come out as gay in a deeply religious extended family. Through an odd turn of events, his grandmother learned that Clark had been speaking to Kameny by phone on a regular basis a few months after Clark first called the hotline, which he had discovered in the Yellow Pages.
“That’s when my grandmother called Frank,” he said in an exclusive interview with the Washington Blade on Tuesday. “At first it was a heated conversation. But then once they got past that, my grandmother said on no uncertain terms you will not be able to see my grandson until his 16th birthday.”
He continued to speak with Kameny by phone in what he describes as a counselor and mentor type relationship. Shortly after his 16th birthday Clark says he met Kameny in person for the first time in a public library while accompanied by his grandmother.
“After that, my grandmother allowed me to talk to Frank,” Clark said. “It was nothing that was hidden anymore… And Frank has been part of my life ever since then.”
Clark added, “And that’s when my grandmother started asking him, do you think that him being this way, is it safe for him to go to Anacostia High School? And Frank said yes. It was like everything had collided in a good way between all parties involved.”
Among the things Clark talked to Kameny about in the ensuing years was his relationship with his boyfriend, who moved in with him at his grandmother’s house around 1997 after the boyfriend encountered problems with his parents, who were members of the Jehovah’s Witness faith.
Although his grandmother was gradually becoming more accepting of him being gay, Clark said she wasn’t quite ready for him to cohabitate with a boyfriend in her house. With his grandmother’s consent, Clark accepted an offer by Kameny to move into Kameny’s basement apartment at Kameny’s house on Cathedral Avenue, N.W.
In addition to being a good friend, Clark knew that, unlike his grandmother, Kameny would have no problem accepting Clark’s boyfriend.
“So I moved over there in his basement until 1999 and then me and my boyfriend moved out to Centerville, Va., Clark said. “So I was there from ’97 to ’99 before I moved out.”
Clark said he moved back into Kameny’s house between 2002 and 2003 after having moved from Centerville to an apartment in D.C. By then his friendship with Kameny deepened and evolved into a family type relationship, with Kameny spending time at his grandmother’s and relatives’ homes on holidays, including Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners, Clark said.
“Frank was a part of my family,” he said. “Frank was like a grandfather to me. My grandfather passed away when I was little, but Frank was literally like a grandfather to me. We had our ups and downs, but that’s what families do.”
Clark said his return to Kameny’s house came at Kameny’s request and caused a strain on his relationship with his boyfriend.
“He just called me and said that he was getting older and he missed me living there and he would like for me to come back,” Clark said. “So that’s when my aunt, who knew Frank, that’s when she got someone to redo the basement because the basement by then was in horrible condition and I couldn’t come back there like that.”
As the basement was being fixed up through contractors hired and paid for by his aunt, Clark said Kameny sat him down to discuss the situation.
“He said Timothy, you know I’ve always been self-sufficient and I never needed anybody around, but when you were here I found comfort and I would like to have you back if you’re willing to come back.”
While mulling over Kameny’s invitation to return, Clark said he and his boyfriend had a separate conversation. “That’s when my partner said, well, it’s me or the old man. I chose Frank because Frank was very important to me,” said Clark. “He helped me get over things in my personal life, you know, a lot of things. He helped me get through the anger I had towards a lot of the women in my family,” whose religious beliefs often were at odds with his sexual orientation, Clark said.
“Frank really helped me get past all of that.” Pausing and appearing to hold back tears, Clark said, “Frank is — oh — he was just awesome.”
Clark lived in the basement apartment until after Kameny’s death.
Collard greens and chitlins
Describing himself as a “very private” person, Clark said he shunned the political and LGBT activist world that Kameny relished, despite Kameny’s frequent requests that he attend various events and celebrations. It was only in the last few years of Kameny’s life that Clark said he began attending the city’s LGBT Pride parade as it passed around Dupont Circle.
Instead, he says he has fond memories of Kameny’s participation in his family events, including holiday dinners.
“When my grandmother’s sister from North Carolina came up he went over there to meet her with me at my cousin’s house,” Clark recalls. “It was just so funny because he knew my grandmother but when he first came to one of the dinners and my grandmother had collard greens and chitlins, I said Frank I want you to finish your plate for everything,” Clark said.
“My grandmother asked him to call her by her first name, Lena,” he said. “And Frank said, Lena, what is this? And she said chitlins [pig intestines prepared in a traditional Southern recipe]. And Frank sat back and said Lena what does an old Jew from New York know about this? We all just laughed, and he ate the chitlins. And ever since then he would always ask if my grandmother was making chitlins for the holidays.”
Clark said his fond memories of Kameny’s role as a welcomed member of his family became marred to some degree following Kameny’s death when rumors began circulating among some of Kameny’s political friends and acquaintances over the nature of his relationship with the famed gay rights leader. Some wondered why he would be named as the main beneficiary in Kameny’s will, giving him Kameny’s house, which the city’s tax office says has an assessed value of $730,880.
Clark said earlier rumors that surfaced in the year prior to Kameny’s death were even more unsettling. Clark said he was stunned last year when two D.C. police officers, a staff member from gay D.C. Council member David Catania (I-At-Large), and a D.C. government official specializing in senior citizen services came to Kameny’s house to talk to him and Kameny separately over concerns by people who knew Kameny that Clark was “abusing” him and may have been arrested in the past for allegedly assaulting Kameny.
Glen Ackerman, who is serving as Clark’s attorney on matters related to Kameny’s estate, said he conducted a search of D.C. court records and confirmed “there is absolutely no truth whatsoever to these ugly rumors.”
The Blade also checked court records and determined Clark had never been charged with an offense in connection with his relationship with Kameny.
Ackerman said that as hurtful as the rumors are to Clark, he believes they were spawned, in part, over the fact that Clark was an unknown figure to virtually all of Kameny’s activist friends and acquaintances. He said he advised Clark to speak to the Blade, among other things, to dispel the mystery surrounding him.
“The only story that’s relevant here is that out of everyone that Dr. Kameny knew in his life, he only trusted one person in terms of his estate and that’s Timothy Clark,” Ackerman said. “With everyone in his life, he trusted this one man to be his personal representative at his death and to leave him basically all of his earthly possessions, including but not limited to his home, his automobile and all of his possessions with the exclusion of his papers that would go to the Library of Congress.”
Ackerman said that officials with the Kameny Papers Project, who had helped arrange for the donation of Kameny’s life’s work writings on behalf of LGBT rights to go to the Library of Congress, initially had not consulted Clark about plans to have Kameny’s ashes buried on March 3 in D.C. Congressional Cemetery.
“He has the sole authority to decide the destiny of all of Dr. Kameny’s possessions, including his ashes,” Ackerman said.
Clark, who initially planned to take possession of Kameny’s ashes, said he has agreed to allow half of the ashes to be buried in the planned March 3 memorial ceremony at Congressional Cemetery while keeping the remaining half “to cherish for the rest of my life.”
Clark said his grief over Kameny’s death brought back memories of the death of his grandmother in 2008, who Kameny knew and loved. When he received a phone call while at home with Kameny that his grandmother had died, Clark said he walked outside on the front lawn to collect his thoughts.
“Frank came downstairs and outside,” he said. “I was standing on the grass. He came out and hugged me and said I’m still here for you, I’m still here. I’ll never forget that day.”
He said he and several of his relatives plan to attend the March 3 burial ceremony for Kameny’s ashes.
District of Columbia
To school to homeschool to school again
‘Pandemic took more than 2 years of school. It took 2 years of my childhood’
It wasn’t until I no longer had those 30 minutes of lunch and recess, when all the boys and girls would come together to trade bracelets, make up games, gossip about who we liked, play tag and sports, that I realized how much of my childhood happened during the parts of school that had nothing to do with schoolwork.
I was in the third grade when the COVID-19 pandemic began. I remember my parents explaining that I couldn’t go back to school and wondering when I would see my friends again — or whether I wanted to go back at all. But after spending two years learning from home, cut off from the friends, teachers and routines I had known, I began to understand what I had lost.
For many of my friends and classmates, going to school changed from a bus ride every morning to clicking a link and seeing their teachers and classmates through a screen. My experience was a little different. Instead of going to virtual school, I was homeschooled. My new routine was sitting at my kitchen table, with my mom teaching me how to write a paragraph or solve a math problem, surrounded by the same walls I saw every day.
My family was not alone. Many families across the country turned to homeschooling after schools shut down. Homeschooling increased sharply during the pandemic, especially among Black families, rising from 3.3 percent in the spring of 2020 to 16.1 percent that fall, according to the U.S. Census Bureau’s Household Pulse Survey.
It would be two years before I entered a classroom again.
At first, I loved homeschooling.
I didn’t have to wake up early or put on a uniform. I liked the comfort of my own room, surrounded by my stuffed animals and toys. I didn’t have to push my way through that horrible lunch line because my food was now waiting for me at the kitchen table.
It felt like a fever dream where school was canceled and all day was fun. That was my view as a 9-year-old.
But as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, that initial excitement wore off.
Every day became the same routine. There was no recess when I could play princess with all the other girls. There were no conversations in the lunch line and none of the small things that had broken up the school day before. I didn’t realize how much those moments mattered until I could no longer experience them.
With less to look forward to, I started spending more time on the internet.
I turned to platforms such as YouTube and TikTok to distract myself. Instead of seeing what the kids around me were doing every day, I could watch people online show off their clothes, makeup, dances, art and lives.
Over time, I started comparing myself with what I saw. I thought the way I dressed was childish and wanted to be like the superstars I saw online. I followed what was trendy and admired the girls and boys who looked so confident on screen.
Before the pandemic, my friends and I didn’t need the internet to tell us what was popular. But during those years at home, I became much more aware of what other people thought was cool and what someone my age was supposedly supposed to like. I felt as though I was growing up without getting to experience all the steps in between.
When I finally returned to school, I thought my classmates would be excited to see each other again after spending so much time apart.
Instead, I realized how much we all changed.
When I walked through those doors, I remembered vague memories of running down those halls and always seeing my peers with smiles on their faces. Now those same faces were tired, with eye bags. The lunchroom, which used to be full of life with happy kids eating to their hearts’ content, turned into a lunch where all the girls controlled what they ate and talked about the latest trend on TikTok.
Maybe some of that change would have happened anyway. Kids grow up. Interests change. Middle school has always been awkward.
But I didn’t get to watch my classmates gradually change or change alongside them. I left one social world and came back to another.
When I returned, I was expected to understand a social world that had changed while I was gone. I felt I missed so much that I would never get back, and without that day-to-day learning to help me adapt to these new norms, I struggled.
Those everyday interactions are an important part of how children learn to get along with others: A 2026 meta-analysis of 157 studies from 33 countries published in the academic journal Child Development found that children’s social and emotional skills declined during the pandemic, along with their overall well-being. The researchers noted that schools are not just places where children learn math and reading. They are also places where children learn how to make friends, work through disagreements, understand other people’s feelings and manage their own emotions.
Years later, many parents say some of those effects are still being felt. In a 2025 Gallup survey, 45 percent of parents with school-age children said the pandemic hurt their child’s social skills, and 22 percent said those problems were still ongoing. Forty-two percent said the pandemic negatively affected their child’s mental health. Parents were more likely to report problems with their children’s social skills and mental health than with their academics or physical health.
I saw some of those changes around me, too. Classmates who once seemed outgoing became quieter or more withdrawn. Starting conversations felt harder. Making new friends felt harder. Sometimes retreating into myself felt easier than trying to figure out where I belonged.
Now, the kids who were in elementary school when the pandemic began are moving through high school. We are older, but some of us are still figuring out what those missing years meant.
Before the pandemic, I thought lunch and recess were simply breaks from learning. Now I understand that we were learning during those 30 minutes, too. We were learning how to make friends, how to disagree and make up, how to be embarrassed and recover from it, what we liked and what we didn’t, and slowly who we wanted to become.
I can’t know exactly who I would be if I had spent those years inside a classroom instead of at home. Maybe middle school still would have been awkward. Maybe I still would have worried about fitting in.
But I know I missed something I didn’t understand was important until it was gone: the ordinary, sometimes boring, sometimes ridiculous parts of growing up alongside other kids.
You can make up schoolwork. You can return to the classroom. But there are some parts of childhood you don’t get to repeat.
Gloria Collazo Huamani is a sophomore at Benjamin Banneker Academic High School in D.C., one of Youthcast Media Group’s journalism class partners. Gloria worked with James Jarvis, a YMG mentor-editor and reporter for Inside Health Policy, on this story.
Virginia
Gay Va. couple hopeful voters will enshrine marriage equality in state constitution
Early voting has already begun in the state
A referendum on whether to enshrine marriage equality in Virginia’s constitutional amendment is on the ballot this year.
If voters approve Question 2, it will codify the U.S. Supreme Court’s Obergefell ruling in 2015 that extended marriage rights to same-sex couples across the country — gays and lesbians have been able to legally marry in Virginia since Oct. 6, 2014.
Ron Bookbinder and James Fisher are a married couple who live in Arlington.
They have been together for 38 years — Bookbinder and Fisher married in 2014.
“We think this is a critical vote to remove this discriminatory language from the constitution and to ensure that going forward, no matter what happens, the state of Virginia will ensure marriage equality,” Fisher told the Washington Blade. “It is it is really difficult and upsetting to think that our current state constitution would prohibit same-sex marriage, even though the federal government overrides that now. There’s no saying what may happen in the future.”
Bookbinder said it was important for him and Fisher to get married “to gain social equality.”
“I was surprised how good it felt, how important it was to begin to say, ‘my husband rather than my partner,'” Bookbinder said.
Bookbinder then explained why it feels good to be married.
“Is it a legal partner, a business partner, a tennis partner, you know, or a romantic partner? But when you say my husband James, everyone knows exactly what you mean and confers an equal status with everyone else who’s married, and we were both surprised at how good it felt and how equal it felt to suddenly be married and be able to state that you were married and discuss your husband rather than your partner, and I would hate to lose that,” he said.
Bookbinder and Fisher said they are hopeful that voters will approve the amendment, noting Virginia has become more progressive over the years.
“I think people have, with the Supreme Court decision, people have seen that a same-sex marriage is just a marriage,” stated Fisher. “It’s just two people who love each other, and I think more and more people have attended a same-sex marriage, someone in their family or a friend, and the experience of what this is, firsthand experience, is so important in shaping people’s opinions, and I think the period of time that we’ve had since the Obergefell decision has given a lot of voters that experience, which I think is really important and powerful.”
The couple also said the push to enshrine marriage equality in Virginia’s constitution is in response to the Trump-Vance administration.
“And I think due to President Trump doing all the horrible things he’s done to so many groups, including LGBTQ, especially trans people, that Virginians are kind of pushed to be even more progressive to protect those who need protection, which would include the LGBTQ community in terms of marriage equality, so I’m confident it will pass,” said Bookbinder.
Narissa Rahaman, executive director of Equality Virginia, sent the Blade a statement about early voting on Question 2 that has already begun.
“With early voting now underway, our focus is making sure every Virginian knows Question 2 is on their ballot,” said Rahaman. “The outdated ban on same-sex marriage still in Virginia’s state constitution leaves a gap in protections for the thousands of same-sex couples that call this state home, but after 20 years we have the chance to fix it.”
Log onto www.mobilize.us/vaformarriage to find out more about the campaign in support of Question 2.
By JOHN-JOHN WILLIAMS IV | Those legendary heavy-handed pours, spirited karaoke and trivia nights, and groan-worthy wall-to-wall patrons on packed nights are back!
Leon’s will live to see another day.
Baltimore’s oldest gay bar, which opened in the 1950s, closed in July following the death of its owner, Ron Singer.
The rest of this article can be read on the Baltimore Banner’s website.
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