"IF A BULLET SHOULD ENTER MY BRAIN, LET THAT BULLET DESTROY EVERY CLOSET DOOR." -Harvey Milk-
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The startling news comes over the radio: Dianne Feinstein, President of the Board of Supervisors, in a shaking voice says: "Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk have been shot . . . and killed. The suspect is Supervisor Dan White."
We heard that there would be a candlelight vigil at Market and Castro. When we arrived, the crowd was already huge. Considering that there had been no planning, this was phenomenal. We stopped at Cliff's and bought a few candles from the rapidly dwindling supply. They gave us paper cups to protect the candles from the breeze.
The group could no longer fit in the intersection and began moving slowly down Market toward City Hall. We were led by the sound of a single drum. It's beat was the slow, solemn heartbeat of a grieving community.
This march was one of the most awesome events in my life. Five percent of the population of the entire city was present on a moment's notice and in spite of the mass of humanity, the silence was deafening. Occasional sobs and whispers were the only sounds. There was little traffic and, as if the gods were with us, there was no wind licking at our candles!
People poured out of almost every building and joined the procession.
As the crowd filled Civic Center, candles were deposited everywhere. Hundreds of tiny points of light lit the statue of Abraham Lincoln.
Someone wisely brought a megaphone and believe it or not, Joan Baez (in person) began singing AMAZING GRACE. Tears flowed freely as the crowd joined in. Chills ran down our collective spine. These are moments that happen only at truly historic events, and there I was with my tiny, tiny candle and my heavy, heavy heart, and my 50,000 brothers and sisters.
The Candlelight March in memory of George Moscone and Harvey Milk has been repeated every year since that historic first march.
THESE ARE PICTURES TAKEN BY UNCLE DONALD ON MONDAY EVENING, |