The Door

1976.4.27

Today was some sort of milestone.

I sold flowers all day in downtown Denver on Santa Fe. I even fundraised in the restaurant where Imoe and I ate last summer when we were passing through. Ever since arriving in Denver on MFT, I had wondered where that Mexican restaurant was. I was so surprised when I walked in. I recognized it immediately. It turned out to be a place called Joe's Cafe in the 700 block of Santa Fe. I did better in there than anywhere else.

When night came I stayed downtown to do the bars. Before I started, I prayed to meet with God.

One of the first bars I did was a gay bar called The Door, on Broadway near Colfax. It was crowded for a Tuesday, but gay bars usually are. Some of customers told me to get out because there was no soliciting, but as usual I ignored them because they didn't have the authority to kick me out. Then I fundraised to one guy who asked me who it was for, but when I told him Unification Church, he said that it was nothing. Then he said he was going to follow me everywhere I went.

I kept fundraising, totally ignoring him, but as I was about to collect $2 from one guy he stepped in and demanded to see my solicitor's license. When I balked, he shoved me outside. He said things like I was brainwashed, that my parents had paid him a lot of money to deprogram me, that he felt really sorry for me. But mostly he kept asking me questions, trying to get me to talk. I ignored him. I refused to have any give-and-take.

He followed me to the bus station, through the waiting room, once around the building and back through the lobby. This time I went to the guard and told him this man was following me and harassing me, but the guard wouldn't do anything about it.

"You're being foolish," the guy said.

I turned and said, "What do you want me to do?"

"Anything you want."

So I walked out of the bus station, with him right behind me. This time I tried running. At first he didn't chase me, but as soon as I went around a corner he easily caught up with me. I tried fundraising a few more places, and somehow even managed to sell some, but he was always right there. Finally, he offered to buy the whole bucket.

Now he had my attention. He eased up and introduced himself as Bob Davis. He asked me my name and age, anything to get me to talk. But he made no motion for his wallet, and when I realized he wasn't going to buy, I stopped talking. I tried to walk away but he grabbed me and pushed my back up against a wall.

"The cops are coming to arrest you, " he said.

I waited a minute, and sure enough a cop car pulled up with the lights on. But it turned out he was pulling somebody over and not there because of me. So I took off running again up the street, with Bob right behind me. It was pointless so I stopped. We were standing on a corner.

"Look at me," he demanded. I stared at him.

"Look me in the eye."

Our eyes were already locked.

"You're looking at my hair. Look me in the eye."

I didn't flinch or blink or break my gaze. If only looks could kill.

"You're looking at my hair! Look lower! Look lower!" He was practically screaming at me, inches from my face. I could smell the liquor on his breath. Satan was standing right in front of me.

I saw a taxi waiting at the light by the bus station and suddenly knew how to get away. I started walking toward the bus station like I was going to go back inside.

As I walked Bob kept saying, "Put your bucket down. Put down your bucket." Over and over. It was like he thought if he kept saying it I would be forced to do it.

But I kept walking toward the bus station. The light changed green, but the taxi didn't move. I started to go into the bus station, and as soon as Bob following me inside I suddenly bolted back outside toward the cab, waving wildly. Bob was just a split second behind me, making a motion to the cab driver not to pick me up, but the cabbie just said, "Knock it off, buddy." I jumped in and the cab pulled away. I looked back at Bob punching the air with his fist. He was furious.

The cabbie spoke first. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just get me away from that queer."

"I was watching you. Looked like he was giving you a hard time."

"Yeah."

He drove me a couple blocks out of Bob's sight and dropped me at the curb.

"What do I owe you?" I asked.

"Nothing. God bless."

I handed him a flower and he took off.

I ran a couple blocks down to Larimer Square, where I had gotten the $55 donation a couple weeks before. I went into a bar and a guy named Gordon Ross gave me a $20. He said he used to work for Father back in the '60s when Father first visited the United States. He said he was one of the first three people to work with Father in America.

He didn't say why he left, and I didn't ask. But he did say that Sun Myung Moon is Christ, of that he was absolutely certain.