Local
Cliff Witt, early D.C. gay rights strategist, dies at 77
Co-founder of GAA was manager at Ziegfeld’s-Secrets
Clifton R. Witt was one of six founders of D.C.’s Gay Activists Alliance in 1971. He died Sept. 9.
Clifton R. “Cliff” Witt, who was one of six founders of D.C.’s Gay Activists Alliance in 1971 and worked for more than 20 years as a director of film and video for a company that makes industrial training movies before becoming a manager at the D.C. gay nightclub Ziegfeld’s-Secrets, died Sept. 9 at George Washington University Hospital. He was 77.
Friends and co-workers at Ziegfeld’s-Secrets said he lost consciousness at the club just after its 3 a.m. closing time on Saturday and was taken by ambulance to the hospital where he died later that morning. His brother, Clyde Witt, said the D.C. Medical Examiner’s office informed him the cause of death was chronic pulmonary lung disease.
His friend and former roommate Glenn Berkheimer said Witt had been suffering from a lung ailment in recent years due to his long history as a heavy smoker.
Clyde Witt said Cliff Witt began his career as a Peace Corps volunteer in the early 1960s in Latin America, where he served for at least two years in Columbia and became fluent in Spanish.
He entered the Peace Corps shortly after receiving a bachelor’s and master’s degree in film production and direction at Northwestern University in Illinois, according to Clyde Witt. Clyde Witt said his brother was born in Cleveland and raised in nearby Maple Heights, Ohio. He graduated from Maple Heights High School in 1958.
Clyde Witt and others who knew Cliff Witt said he devoted most of his working career as a filmmaker for the communications division of the Bureau of National Affairs, or BNA, a D.C.-based news organization that specializes in business-related news and produces educational and training movies.
A BNA official said Witt worked for the company as Director of Film & Video from January 1973 until December 1995.
Roberta Hantgun and Mark Daniels were hired by Witt in the late 1970s as freelance camera operators and worked on many of the film projects directed by Witt.
“We did safety training films,” Daniels told the Washington Blade. “Some showed industrial accidents. We did a sexual harassment training series about sexual harassment in the workplace,” he said. “They were very creative.”
Hantgun said Witt had a “great sense of humor” as he led his production crew on locations throughout the country, including industrial waste sites.
“Cliff was a good man and great to work with,” Daniels said. “He always pushed himself and his crew to do better in a very compassionate way.”
Longtime D.C. gay activist Paul Kuntzler said Witt played an active role in the groundbreaking 1971 election campaign of gay rights pioneer Frank Kameny, who became a candidate for the newly created D.C. Congressional Delegate seat in Congress. It was the first time an openly gay person had run for a federal office.
Kuntzler, who served as manager of the Kameny campaign, said Witt served as assistant manager. Among other things, Witt used what Kuntzler said was his “remarkable” organizational skills to arrange for several busloads of volunteer campaign workers to travel from New York City to D.C. to help gather several thousand signatures needed to get Kameny’s name on the ballot.
Kameny finished in fourth place in a six-candidate race, receiving just under 1,900 votes, a few hundred more than a candidate who expressed anti-gay views during the campaign. Although Kuntzler, Witt and the others working on Kameny’s campaign didn’t expect Kameny to win, they considered the effort a success in achieving their goal of drawing attention to the gay issues that Kameny raised during the campaign.
Shortly after the campaign ended Witt joined Kuntzler and four others involved in the campaign in launching the D.C. Gay Activists Alliance, which they modeled after a group by the same name in New York City.
Witt has been credited with playing a key role in one of the group’s first major protest actions – a “zap” or “invasion” of the annual national conference of the American Psychiatric Association, which took place at D.C.’s then Shoreham Hotel.
Details of Witt’s role in the action appear in the 1999 book “Out for Good: The Struggle to Build a Gay Rights Movement in America” by New York Times writers Dudley Clendinen and Adam Nagourney.
The book notes that GAA targeted the psychiatrists because of their refusal at that time to remove homosexuality from the APA’s official manual listing it as a mental disorder. Kameny, who held a Ph.D. in astronomy from Harvard University and had been a practicing scientist, was among the first to speak out against the APA listing of gays as “sick,” saying it was based on “junk” science.
With advance planning and direction by Witt, a group of mostly GAA members along with members of the then-D.C. Gay Liberation Front stormed the stage in a large ballroom at the hotel where more than 1,000 of the psychiatrists were assembled, the book reports. Kameny, who was already on stage as a panelist, grabbed a microphone from one of the speakers and “lectured” the psychiatrists on their wrongful beliefs on homosexuality, according to Kameny’s own account in later writings.
In December 1973, about two years after the GAA zap, the APA announced that its board of trustees had voted to remove homosexuality from its Diagnostic and Statistical Manual as a mental disorder. It was a development considered a stunning victory for the newly emerging modern gay rights movement.
Gay activist Richard Maulsby credits Witt with getting him involved in gay activism in D.C. shortly after the two became roommates. Maulsby, who went on to become one of the founders and the first president of the D.C. Gertrude Stein Democratic Club, said Witt also became involved in the 1970s as an avid bird collector and breeder as a hobby.
“But in that early period of time, especially during the Kameny campaign, he was very instrumental in the gay movement,” Maulsby said. “He made substantial contributions early on in a very important period and that provided the foundation for everything that’s happened since then.”
Witt’s brother Clyde said he believes Witt retired from his filmmaking career at the BNA, which later became known as Bloomberg BNA, in the late 1990s. “And then after that he just sort of did whatever he wanted to do,” Clyde Witt said.
According to friends and co-workers at Ziegfeld’s-Secrets, it was around that time that Witt redirected his energy in “retirement” into a new career as a manager at Secrets, where, among other things, he supervised and arranged the scheduling of the club’s nude male dance performers. He also served as the graphic designer for the club’s promotional advertising.
His fluency in Spanish became especially helpful, friends said, in supervising and mentoring the club’s many immigrant Latino dancers whose English speaking abilities were limited before becoming themselves fluent in English.
“He made us feel like we were part of a team,” one of the Secrets dancers told the Blade on Sunday. “He treated us with respect.”
Those familiar with the club said Witt often performed his scheduling duties, with his laptop or iPad in his hands, while sitting on a stool reserved for him at Secrets’ front bar and while sipping black coffee from a beer mug.
“I’ll always remember him sitting on that stool talking to customers and fellow staff members,” said one of the club’s regular customers.
On Sunday night, just one day after Witt passed away, employees placed a beer mug filled with coffee on the bar in front of the empty stool where Witt used to sit. They placed a small vase with flowers next to the mug and a cookie on a napkin along with a note that said, “For Cliff: May you always have hot coffee.”
Clyde Witt said plans for a memorial service would be announced at a later date. Ziegfeld’s-Secrets co-owner Steven Delurba said the club plans to organize its own memorial gathering for Witt in the near future.
Virginia
Fellow lawmakers praise Adam Ebbin after Va. Senate farewell address
Gay state senator to take job in Spanberger administration
Gay Virginia state Sen. Adam Ebbin (D-Alexandria) delivered his farewell address on Feb. 16 in the Senate chamber in Richmond following his decision to resign from his role as a lawmaker to take a position as senior advisor to Democratic Gov. Abigail Spanberger.
Ebbin, whose resignation was to take effect Feb. 18, received a standing ovation from his fellow senators. Several of them spoke after Ebbin’s address to praise him for his service in the Virginia Senate from 2012 to 2026.
Ebbin first won election to the Virginia House of Delegates in 2003 as the first openly gay member of the General Assembly. He served in the House of Delegates from 2004 to 2012 before winning election to the Senate in 2011.
His Senate district includes Alexandria and parts of Arlington and Fairfax Counties.
“Serving in this body has been the greatest honor of my life,” Ebbin said in his farewell address. “Representing Northern Virginia in the General Assembly — my adopted home since 1989 — has been a responsibility I never took lightly,” he said.
“We are a 406-year-old institution,” he told his fellow lawmakers. “But, when I arrived, I had the distinct honor of being a ‘first’ in the General Assembly,” he said. “Being an openly gay elected official 22 years ago didn’t earn you book deals or talk show appearances — just a seat in a deep minority across the hall.”
Ebbin added, “Still, being out was a fact that felt both deeply personal and unavoidably public. I was proud, but I was also very aware that simply being here carried a responsibility larger than myself.”
Ebbin has been credited with playing a lead role in advocating for LGBTQ rights in the General Assembly as well as speaking out against anti-LGBTQ proposals that have surfaced during his tenure in the legislature.
In his speech he also pointed to other issues he has championed as a lawmaker; including strengthening education programs, expanding access to healthcare, safeguarding the environment, and legislation to help “stand up for working people.”
Among the LGBTQ rights legislation he pushed and mentioned in his speech was the Virginia Values Act of 2020, which bans discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity, among other categories.
“I’m particularly proud of our work ensuring Virginia modernized state law to protect LGBT people from discrimination in their daily lives, including in employment, housing, and public accommodations,” he said in his speech. “The Virginia Values Act of 2020 — my proudest achievement — established new protections for all Virginians,” he said.
“This law, the first of its kind in the South, passed with strong bipartisan support,” he stated. “And now — this November — after 20 years, Virginians will finally be able to vote on the Marriage Equality Amendment, which will protect the ability to marry who you love. It’s time for our state constitution to accurately reflect the law of the land.”
He was referring to a proposed state constitutional amendment approved by the General Assembly, but which must now go before voters in a referendum, to repeal a constitutional amendment approved by the legislators and voters in 2006 that bans same-sex marriage.
The U.S. Supreme Court’s Obergefell ruling legalizing same-sex marriage nationwide voided the Virginia same-sex marriage ban. But Ebbin and LGBTQ rights advocates have called on the General Assembly to take action to repeal the amendment in case the Supreme Court changes its ruling on the issue.
In his new job in the Spanberger administration Ebbin will become a senior advisor at the Virginia Cannabis Control Authority, which regulates policies regarding marijuana possession and distribution.
Ebbin was among the lead sponsors of legislation in 2020 to decriminalize possession of marijuana and of current pending legislation calling for legalizing possession.
“When I first entered the General Assembly, I saw too many lives upended by a simple marijuana charge — jobs lost, futures delayed, families hurt,” he said in his speech. “And for far too long, that harm was baked into our laws. That is no longer the case. The times have changed and so have our laws.”
Ebbin said he was also proud to have played some role in the changes in Virginia that now enable LGBTQ Virginians to serve in all levels of the state government “openly, authentically, and unapologetically.”
“I swore to myself that I wouldn’t leave until there was at least one more lesbian or gay General Assembly member,” Ebbin said in his speech. “But when I leave, I’m proud to say we will have an 8-member LGBTQ caucus.”
And he added, “And if anyone on the other side of the aisle wants to come out, you will be more than welcome — we’re still waiting on that first openly gay Republican.”
District of Columbia
Deon Jones speaks about D.C. Department of Corrections bias lawsuit settlement
Gay former corrections officer says harassment, discrimination began in 1993
Deon Jones says he is pleased with the outcome of his anti-gay bias lawsuit against the D.C. Department of Corrections that ended after five years on Feb. 5 with the D.C. government paying him $500,000 in a settlement payment.
The lawsuit, filed on his behalf by the American Civil Liberties Union of D.C. and the international law firm WilmerHale, charged that Jones, a Department of Corrections sergeant, had been subjected to years of discrimination, retaliation, and a hostile work environment because of his identity as a gay man in clear violation of the D.C. Human Rights Act.
A statement released by the ACLU at the time the settlement was announced says Jones, “faced years of verbal abuse and harassment, from co-workers and incarcerated people alike, including anti-gay slurs, threats, and degrading treatment.”
The statement adds, “The prolonged mistreatment took a severe toll on Jones’s mental health, and he experienced depression, post-traumatic-stress disorder, and 15 anxiety attacks in 2021 alone.:
Jones said the harassment and mistreatment he encountered began in 1993, one year after he first began work at the Department of Corrections and continued for more than 25 years under six D.C. mayors, including current Mayor Muriel Bowser, who he says did not respond to his repeated pleas for help.
Each of those mayors, including Bowser, have been outspoken supporters of the LGBTQ community, but Jones says they did not intervene to change what he calls the homophobic “culture” at the Department of Corrections.
The Department of Corrections, through the Office of the D.C. Attorney General, which represents city agencies against lawsuits, and the mayor’s office, have so far declined to comment on the lawsuit and the half million-dollar settlement the city offered to Jones, who accepted it.
Among other things, the settlement agreement states that Jones would be required to resign from his job at the Department of Corrections. It also declares that “neither the parties’ agreement nor the District government’s offer to settle the case shall in any way be construed as an admission by the District that it or any of its current or former employees, acted wrongfully with respect to plaintiff or any other person, or that plaintiff has any rights.”
Scott Michelman, the D.C. ACLU’s legal director said that type of disclaimer is typical for parties that agree to settle a lawsuit like this. He said the city’s action to pay Jones a half million-dollar settlement “speaks louder than words.”
With that as a backdrop, Jones reflected on the settlement and what he says was his tumultuous 30-year career as an employee at the D.C. Department of Corrections in a Feb. 9 interview with the Washington Blade.
He and Michelman pointed out that Jones was placed on paid administrative leave in April 2022, one year after his lawsuit was filed. Among his upcoming plans, Jones told the Blade, is to publish a podcast that, among other things, will highlight the hardship he faced at the Department of Corrections and advocate for LGBTQ rights.
BLADE: What are your thoughts on this lawsuit settlement which appears very much in your favor?
JONES: That’s great. I’m happy. I’m glad to resign. It’s been a long time coming. It was the worst time it’s ever been. And I have advocated for the community for many, many years. And not only standing up for my rights but for the rights for others in the LGBTQ community.
And I’m just tired now. And my podcast will start soon. And I will continue to advocate for the community.
BLADE: Can you tell a little about that and when it will begin?
JONES: Once in April, once everything is closed my podcast will be starting. And that’s Deon’s Chronicle and Reveal. Yes, my own podcast.
BLADE: Since we have reported your attorney saying you have been on administrative leave since March of 2022, some in the community might be interested in what you have been doing since that time. Did you get another job or were you just waiting for this case to be resolved?
JONES: I was waiting for this to be resolved. I couldn’t work. That would violate policy and procedures of the D.C. government. So, I could not get another job or anything else.
BLADE: You have said under administrative leave you were still getting paid. You were still able to live off of that?
JONES: Yes, I was able to. Yes, sir. I used to do a lot of overtime. As a zone lieutenant for many years, I have supervised over 250 officers. I’ve also supervised over 25,000 inmates in my 30 years.
BLADE: How many years have you been working for the Department of Corrections?
JONES: It’s 30 years all together. I started down at the Lorton facility. Six facilities — I’ve worked for past directors, deputy directors, internal affairs. I’ve done it all.
BLADE: Do you have any plans now other than doing the podcast?
JONES: Well, to just do my podcast and also to write my book and my memoir inside of the house of pain, the house of shame — what I’ve been through. When I start my podcast off it will be stories — Part 1 through Part 4. And I will go back to the Lorton days all the way up to now. When it first started was sexual harassment and discrimination back down at Lorton. And I mean this has just been the worst time around.
BLADE: So, did you first start your work at the Lorton Prison?
JONES: Yes, I was at the central facility, which was the program institution.
MICHELMAN: Just for context. You may remember this, but the Lorton facility was where D.C. incarcerated people were held. So, that was part of the D.C. Department of Corrections.
BLADE: Yes, and that was located in Lorton, Va., is that right?
JONES: Right.
BLADE: Didn’t that close and is the main incarceration facility is now in D.C. itself?
JONES: Yes. And that closed in 2001.
BLADE: I see. And is the main D.C. jail now at a site near the RFK Stadium site?
JONES: Yes, sir. And next-door is the correctional treatment facility as well.
BLADE: So, are you saying the harassment and other mistreatment against you began back when you were working at the Lorton facility?
JONES: At the Lorton central facility. And they used to flash me too. When I say flash me like the residents, the inmates were flashing. And they [the employees] were flashing.
BLADE: What do you mean by flashing?
JONES: They take their penis out and everything else. I mean the sexual harassment was terrible. And I came out then down there. And I continued to advocate for myself and to advocate for other people who I was told were being picked on as well.
BLADE: As best you can recall, where and what year did that happen?
JONES: That was back in 1993 in April of 1993.
BLADE: The mayor’s office has declined to comment on the settlement and payment the city is giving you. Yet they have always said they have a strong policy of nondiscrimination protections for LGBTQ people in D.C. government agencies. But do you think that was not carried out at the Department of Corrections?
JONES: That’s a blatant reason why — I had 13 anxiety attacks. It was so blatant. Can you imagine? On the airwaves or the walkie-talkies — everybody had a walkie talkie — the captains and the majors and everything. And you transmit it to the command center or something like that. When you finish someone gets on the air and calls you a sissy or a fag.
They received so many complaints, and I also sent the mayor so many emails and begging for help. And they ignored it. They didn’t address any complaints at all. So, that’s bull.
BLADE: But now after you filed your lawsuit and you received this settlement do you think there will be changes there to protect the rights of other LGBTQ employees?
JONES: I hope so, because I have been defending community rights. For many years I have been advocating for different things and different services. And I’ve seen the treatment. There are a lot of mistreatments towards the community over there. And I have taken a stance for a lot of people in the community and protecting their constitutional rights as well as mine.
BLADE: What advice might you have for what the Department of Corrections should do to correct the situation that led to your lawsuit?
JONES: Well, what my advice for the department is they need to go back over their training. And they need to enforce rules against any acts of discrimination, retaliation, or sexual harassment. They need to enforce that. They’re not enforcing that at all. They’re not doing it at all. And this time it was worse than ever, then I’ve ever seen it. That you would get on the walkie talkie and someone would call you a fag or a sissy or whatever else or do evil things and everything. They are not enforcing what they are preaching. They are not enforcing that.
BLADE: Is there any kind of concluding comment you may want to make?
JONES: Well, I hope that this litigation will be a wakeup call for the department. And also, that it will give someone else the motivation to stand up for their rights. I was blessed to have the ACLU and WilmerHale to protect my constitutional rights. So, I am just really happy. So, I’m hoping that others will stand up for their rights. Because a lot of people in the community that worked there, they were actually afraid. And I had some people who actually quit because of the pressure.
Baltimore
‘Heated Rivalry’ fandom exposes LGBTQ divide in Baltimore
Hit show raises questions about identity, cultural representation
By JOHN-JOHN WILLIAMS IV | “Heated Rivalry,” the surprise gay hockey romance that has captivated global audiences and become a cultural phenomenon, has inspired sold-out parties celebrating the characters from the steamy series, including in Baltimore.
For some, love of the show has exposed the loss of a once-vibrant gay nightlife in Charm City and splintered its LGBTQ community. It also brings up layered questions about identity, cultural representation, and the limits of identity politics.
In Baltimore, the majority of the parties also appear to be missing a key ingredient that has been a part of the show’s success: gay men at the helm. Last month, women hosted a dance party at Ottobar, a straight establishment.
The rest of this article can be read on the Baltimore Banner’s website.
4th Circuit rules against discharged service members with HIV
PHOTOS: Clash
Gay Treasury Secretary’s silence on LGBTQ issues shows he is scum
Lawsuit to restore Stonewall Pride flag filed
EXCLUSIVE: Markey says transgender rights fight is ‘next frontier’
Four bisexual women on stereotypes, erasure, representation, and joy
Magic is happening for Round House’s out stage manager
‘Heated Rivalry’ fandom exposes LGBTQ divide in Baltimore
Home is where the heart is
