Cleve Jones’ 70th served up many drag queens, leather daddies, and activists

Cleve Jones is a name synonymous with resilience, community, and the fight for LGBTQ+ rights. I don’t know someone else in the Bay Area whose influence for queer people has been so impactful in recent memory, and I think his effect was evident at his 70th birthday on October 11th.

The glitzy night at Hibernia Bank was billed as a party, but many times it felt more to me like a public television special that showcased local LGBTQ+ community leaders. Cleve kept his promise to keep speeches to a minimum, but in their place we saw throngs of drag queens, leather daddies, choir members and activists march to the stage to take a bow and pose for a photo. The successive appearance of each group, one after the other from the AIDS Quilt, Gay Men’s Chorus and Comfort & Joy was an effective display of all that Jones has touched.

I love all good fashion — and the gayer, the better — so you’re not getting complaints from me about the overall vibe. Most attendees bathed in glitter, sequins, and loud prints before donning big-ass wigs and stepping out in some platforms, and I was here for all of it:

Cleve kept his own words brief but impactful, focusing on his road to San Francisco, struggles with HIV, and the importance of drag queens. In SF we’re perfectly happy to slip on some heels, but given the prevalence of drag bans and “Don’t Say Gay” sentiment across the country, this also felt poignant.

“No matter how much money, solidarity, or hope — we can’t win without drag queens,” Jones said.

And we did hear little snippets from others, including a group blessing by Sister Roma; Juanita More also led us in a happy birthday song and presented Cleve with a cake or three.

I’m downplaying my critique because I don’t want the gay cabal to rise up and angrily throw their stilettos at me. I just wish the party had more dancing and snacks. This was also my first time at Hibernia Bank, a venue I remember feeling FOMO and jealous over not being invited to this party. But oh man, what a sketchy spot of town. The Tenderloin was our city’s gayborhood long before Castro was, so in other ways it made sense. I half wanted to scoot off to Aunt Charlie’s for a night of disco and cheap drinks — but my poofy gown wasn’t going to play well in that narrow space.

My friend just that day coincidentally mailed me a rhinestoned pepper spray as a belated birthday gift, and I definitely clutched that thing tightly while walking with my boyfriend a few blocks to Hibernia Bank from where the car dropped us.

Ultimately I enjoyed recognizing so many faces I seldom glimpse in queer spaces nowadays; these are the cultural tastemakers of my generation who I think gave way for a younger LGBTQ+ cohort that’s now making San Francisco home — with much thanks to Cleve for that. I spoke to a few who live far away indeed now, but came specifically to celebrate him. Among them was Chris Housman, a gay country singer who traveled here to sing an original for Cleve.

The prominent politicos apparently got an invite to an earlier soirée, so I only briefly spotted Supervisor Matt Dorsey in line at the start of the night. But Donna Sachet, Mercedez Munro, Serge Gay Jr., Race Bannon, and an everything-but-the-corset Paige Turner were among the more recognizable and definitely still active local queer influencers in the evening lineup.

The night served not just as a party but a fundraiser to launch the new Cleve Jones Community Fund, made to support the legacy of both the AIDS Quilt and the AIDS Foundation, which still play vital roles in combating HIV/AIDS.

I am grateful to relay that new HIV infections fell to 133 cases in San Francisco in 2023, an incredible milestone that only makes me remember the time before. My uncle Mitch died of AIDS complications here in 2005 after a decades-long battle that saw him bravely seeking support from family and friends in a time of deep stigma; and after spending years in treatment trials in New Mexico. I have no doubt Jones’ work has played its part bolstering SF programs like Ward 86 and Healthright 360, which serve countless residents in both treating and preventing new infections — such that modern day cases never suffer what my uncle did.

I won’t repeat all the adoring speeches that night, but there’s a lovely collection of tributes to Jones at the Bay Area Reporter. This was his first birthday party I attended but admittedly it felt a little like a lifetime achievement ceremony, so I hope that we still see more of Cleve Jones soon. We still need him.

Saul Sugarman is editor in chief of The Bold Italic.

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