In 1993 PBS aired a mini-series based on the first book but then caved to right-wing pressure and refused to do the second book. Showtime picked up the thread and released More Tales of the City in 1998 and Further Tales of the City in 2001. In the last month or so I have read or re-read all nine books and watched all three mini-series.
Tales revolves around Anna Madrigal, landlady of a wonderfully atmospheric Victorian spread hidden away in the hills of San Francisco. Mary Ann Singleton moves from Ohio to Barbary Lane and thereby changes almost everything about her life. She meets the eternal romantic Michael "Mouse" Tolliver, the womanizer Brian Hawkins, the frizzy redheaded hippie Mona Ramsey, the black fashion model D'orthea Wilson and a host of other characters representing all stripes of the political/sexual/social rainbow that was San Francisco in the 70s and 80s. Over the arc of nine books we travel from California's Gay Mecca to Westernmost Alaska to Jonestown to the Blue Moon Lodge whorehouse in Winnemucca, Nevada. The plots are silly and over the top and include cannibalism in the cathedral, kidnapping at Barbary Lane, a clandestine visit to Russia, a pool party with a closeted Hollywood movie star and, in the last book, a memorable road trip to Burning Man.
I love these books-- can your tell? The videos are less successful, but still a delight, and the two minute clip I'm sharing with you today -- an unused scene from Showtime's More Tales -- speaks to the truth of this series for me. As a gay man I am expected to identify most with Michael, and I do. But not just because he was oversexed in the 70s, as was I, but because he was such a romantic, always looking for Mr. Right while despairing he would ever find him. The secret to success, he realizes, is to be strong enough to handle being alone, to not put your faith in someone else, to not look desperate -- most of all, not that! Desperation evokes pity in people, not love. When you spend all your energies trying to be coupled you will surely end up single and shamed.
It took me years to learn this lesson. I started my first relationship with Sandy not terribly long after coming out. We were together two years. My next boyfriend moved into our apartment while Sandy and I were still living together as roommates. When that man and I broke up, there was another, and another, and yet another. Every boyfriend was in fact auditioning to be my husband, whether he knew it or not. And when I wasn't involved with someone, I was out looking for more entrants to the cattle call.
It's no wonder it took me years to find my husband. I had to learn to love myself, to live by myself and be happy with myself before I could truly love someone else. I hadn't fully incorporated all those lessons when I met Ransom, but I was on my way. His patience and support allowed me to finish my studies and finally become a man who was worthy of love.
As I watch this video of Michael painfully complaining of his life, I empathize entirely. I've been there. I've even been a cruise ship looking for a husband -- several cruise ships in fact, each one a search. I know for a fact that I scared some men away by coming on too strong too soon. Like Michael, desperation guided my sail. Like Michael, I too eventually learned that's never a good idea.
The quality's not great, but you can view this video here:
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