There seemed to be a man--a very glib and enthusiastic man--babbling happily away on my television screen. Wow, was he perky. His grin stretched to the blunt ends of his floppy dishwater hair. His suit was quite tasteful, his tie rather loud, and his manner was... effervescent.
I figured I must have stopped on a rerun of Will & Grace. Was the fruity little Muppet "Just Jack" maybe? (I may be the only homosexual in creation who has never, ever watched a single episode.) But according to the station ID in the corner of the screen, this couldn't possibly be Will & Grace. I was watching NorthWest Cable News--or NWCN, our ersatz local CNN that I never pay any attention to.
So this guy was a reporter. I was watching the news. I aimed the remote and prepared to shoot....
"While the movie looks like it was shot on your dad's old 8mm amateur camera, the acting is even worse!" the Muppet said, trashing some new flick with a couple of the *NSYNC boys in it. "If Lance and Joey spit out another stinker like this one, they can kiss their movie careers a bye-bye-bye!"
Then it hit me.
Wait a MINUTE! This was a NEWS channel! This guy's a REPORTER? Surely the obvious deviant before me couldn't be a member of a legitimate broadcast team! That majorette grin! The Dorothy Hamill hair! The eccentric neckwear!
"You're watching Richard's Reels; this is Richard Reid!"
It was the beginning of an obsession.
LIGHT READING
Richard was my constant companion as I convalesced, and I have studied him with a passion worthy of a nobler cause ever since. Now each weekday morning I haul my derrière out of bed way too early just to catch Richard's delightfully gay entertainment reports. "Richard's Reels" (his scrumptiously witty movie reviews) air inhumanly early on weekend mornings, during the 6:00 a.m. and 10:00 a.m. morning shows, but his gloriously fey entertainment reports are much easier to catch, running each weekday morning at 35 minutes past the hour.
There's no shortage of gay men in broadcast news, of course. But historically, your typical newsfag tends to fit a very strict profile: firmly ensconced in the corporate closet, he only trots out long enough to get soused and expose himself in places like the Cuff or the Eagle. At least that's the modus operandi of Seattle's newsfags. (Don't get me started.) And since all of our local gay newscasters are pretty dang butch--well, comparatively--at first glance your average John Q. Cardholder would never guess that his favorite anchorman had spent the better part of the weekend lip-syncing to Sister Sledge and antiquing. But this Richard Reid person? Whooooa NELLY. He made Big Gay Al look like Arnold Schwarzenegger. And this was intriguing.
See, Richard "reads light." To say that someone "reads light" is a polite way of saying that he puts too much stress on his S's, or he flails his hands about as he speaks. Maybe he squeals like a girl with a bee in her hair when he gets excited, or perhaps he's just too darn presentable. What "reading light" boils down to is this: You, sir, are an obvious faggot--you will raise eyebrows and delight children. Being too fey--or worse, actually admitting one's penchant for buggery--historically meant the swift, sure death of a career in front of the camera. Traditionally, the only way a gentleman of fey persuasion could succeed in a high-profile entertainment or broadcast career was by somehow reining in those flailing wrists and sibilant S's enough to fool most clueless Americans. (And most clueless Americans are eager to be fooled. Liberace? George Michael? Don't get me started.) If all else failed, the "light reader" could simply find himself a nice dim girl and fake it. To the best of my knowledge, Mr. Reid has done absolutely none of these terrible, terrible things.
So what could be motivating the suits at Channel 2 to allow an unapologetic pixie to run amuck all over their news network? I pondered one morning as I watched Richard giggle in girlish delight. Have queers achieved such a high level of respect and social acceptance? Has the world changed so drastically? Well one thing is for darn sure: A short time ago, an over-the-top flamer could never have been caught anywhere near anything as solemn and conservative as the local news--not unless he was doing Leslie Miller's hair. More curious is the fact that NWCN's broadcast coverage stretches far beyond the liberal shores of Seattle and airs in some of the most ridiculously conservative country anywhere: militia-laden Idaho, tight-assed Oregon boonies, Limbaugh-loving Eastern WA. How the hell is Richard getting away with it?
Through some elementary e-snooping, I discovered that Richard was born and reared just south of these parts: Springfield, Eugene, Klamath Falls, and Salem, Oregon. He studied film and theater (surprise, surprise) at the California Institute of Arts and at Hunter College in New York, but got his degree in broadcast communications from Seattle Central Community College. He interned at KIRO, and was eventually hired on as a writer of entertainment packages and fluffier Northwest events. He joined the NorthWest Cable News team in July 1998, and has been gaily fagging up the airwaves ever since.
So who's this guy blowing? His bio wasn't remarkable enough to explain why he, above all others, should spark such a dramatic shift in the all-powerful heterosexist paradigm. I began to make discreet and well-placed inquiries to friends and associates in broadcast media. Through the friend of a friend of a pseudo-insider at NWCN, I learned that the network's suits don't just grudgingly tolerate Richard's flaming, as one would naturally expect. My mole claimed they actually hired and retain Mr. Reid BECAUSE he is so delightfully gay! They encourage it! The higher-ups WANT him to act like a big sissypants!
Hiring someone to do TV news BECAUSE he reads light? Revolutionary! But why would a big corporation do such a crazy thing? Are NWCN's execs wise, tolerant souls with an evolved sense of humor? Or do they have a less altruistic motive?
A BRIEF HISTORY OF HOMOS ON TV
Let's jump around a bit by starting with Ellen. Remember Ellen? Shaggy head, moderately amusing, eats beaver? Right. As mercenary as her motives may have been when she shocked exactly nobody by courageously announcing that, yes, duh, she was gay, Ellen nevertheless changed the way the American entertainment industry deals with queerdom. She didn't do it all by her doughnut-rubbing self, of course: Roseanne blazed the trail three years earlier when she stuck her big, meaty tongue down poor Mariel Hemingway's throat on prime time, and almost 20 years before that Billy Crystal played Jodie, a very confused (and confusing) on-and-off queer boy on the hit sitcom Soap.
After Jodie came Dynasty's Steven (both of them), and a fistful of others followed. But except for Ellen, each and every one of these gay characters (without exception!) was played by straight--and often downright homophobic--boys and girls. As shocking and appalling as some people found these characters, America slept secure in the knowledge that Mariel and Billy and Mrs. Tom Arnold weren't REALLY hell-bound sodomites. Why, they was all just PLAY ACTIN'! It was only PRE-tend! And that made all the difference. It's the same story with just about every gay character on television today. Even "Just Jack" from Will & Grace refuses to give the world a firm "yea" or "nay" as to his very ambiguous (read: gayer than George Michael and Elton John fucking in a pink sleeping bag) sexuality; and Eric McCormack--"Will"--felt it necessary to GUSH on and on (and on) about his WIFE when he won an Emmy... for playing a fag. And who hasn't caught at least ONE of the Queer as Folk boys on some talk show or other droning on and on (and on) about how DISGUSTING it is to kiss another guy? Appalling.
But surely there have been bona fide fudgepackers peppered throughout television history, right? Of course! But before Ellen's "big announcement," a thinly veiled lie was necessary to seal the uncomfortable truce between genuine queerness and a culture that was just learning--against its will--that real homosexuals existed. The terms of this truce? Simple: You could be as explosively, over-the-edge queer, queer, QUEER! as you pleased (like our good friend Richard); you just couldn't actually BE gay! The whole affair was quite degrading and dishonest. And ironically enough, it all began with children's cartoons....
Just over 40 years ago William Hanna and Joseph Barbera flooded the airwaves with animated faggotry--and nobody batted an eyelash. From Snagglepuss, with his melodramatic exits and curiously comprehensive grasp of theatrical terminology ("Exit, stage right...."), to Babu, the obese, absurdly queeny genie ("Yapple dapple!"), there was no denying that there was something funny going on in the funny papers. But since cartoon characters have no genitals, they obviously have no sex--anal, oral, otherwise. Simple. Logical. And a big load of horseshit. The characters created by Hanna and Barbera are so mercilessly light in the loafers that a list of them reads like a catalogue of Kristen Bjorn fuck-flicks: Ruff and Reddy, Doggie Daddy, the Roman Holidays, Jonny Quest, Teen Force, and even (for the love of god) Pound Puppies.
It was all quite innocent--on the surface. But as time went on, the cartoon fags evolved into the flesh-and-blood type. For instance? Paul Lynde, the brilliant ingénue who not only gave us Bewitched's wacky Uncle Arthur but also introduced the world to caftans and man-purses. Or Charles Nelson Riley, the reigning queen of the '70s game- and talk-show circuits. And, yes, Liberace. Bona fide fruitcakes all! But no matter how screamingly G-A-Y, they were all closet cases, and that suited people just fine. Why, they weren't really home-a-seckshual pre-verts! They were just zany and eccentric, peculiar uncles, Center Squares! They're SUPPOSED to be a little flamboyant... they're PERFORMERS!
So even though brain-damaged toddlers knew that Ellen was Queen of the Rug Munchers (That HAIR! Those SHOES!), she was the first TV star to come right out and say so--and that was VERY big news. She paved the way for every queercentric show and character on the air today, from sweet, shy little Willow on Buffy to every drugged-out man-whore on Queer as Folk. More importantly, she provided corporate America with definitive proof that there was a huge, untapped audience (one with lots and lots of disposable income) that was willing to watch gay characters and was therefore worthy of its advertising investment. Thus was a new stock character born, and today EVERY (and that means EVERY) show on television boasts AT LEAST one gay neighbor. It doesn't have a lot of integrity. It's slightly degrading. But the bottom line had the final say, and the final say is that fags (and dykes) equal ratings, and ratings equal profits. Television is just a business, after all; its job, to sell ads. And that INCLUDES the news.
Which brings us back to Richard....
BIG GAY FAD
I was soaking in a hot bath, mulling it all over. I figured that Richard was far more than just another silly gay character on TV. First of all, he bucked the usual tropes: he was neither a breeder faking it nor some chickenshit closet case. He was REALLY gay--and quite obvious about it. He doesn't play a role on NWCN: he's just being himself--albeit a slightly exaggerated version of himself. (People who know Richard personally attest to the fact that he's much swishier on the air than he is in real life.) Second, he'd somehow managed to chew and claw his way into the über-conservative world of local news--the last bastion of staid, colorless conservatism. This is a remarkable achievement. Sure, he is an entertainment reporter, a far fluffier animal than an anchorman, but still. By appearing daily on a cable news channel, Richard cleverly manages to smuggle his sodomarvelous self right into the living rooms of backwater folks who'd rather shoot the TV than watch an episode of Will & Grace, thusly dragging Ma and Pa Poulsbo kicking and screaming into the new century. Heck, he probably does more quantifiable good to the "gay rights movement" (such as it is) than a gazillion pride parades.
But then a disturbing notion blew in and clouded my sunny reflections: Is Richard just NWCN's obligatory gay neighbor? Is NWCN only EXPLOITING Richard's glorious fruitcakey-ness so it can cash in on this queer fad? The idea irritated me. I've always been hypersensitive about appropriation and exploitation of queer culture. How could I not be? Where I come from, you were labeled "fag" if you were clean, polite, and had a vocabulary of 50 words or better. But now, every (ostensibly) red-blooded, brawling, and belching breeder boy is tweezing his eyebrows, shaving his chest, and lingering around the cologne counter. Personally, I was content when breeder boys DIDN'T show their feelings and couldn't dance. And now, with faux fags flung from one end of pop culture to the other, I can't help but feel like the world is cashing in on queerdom while it's still a sellable novelty. It's the real reason I can't bear to watch Will & Grace. We all know how this story ends--what happens to fads when their time has passed. It's not pretty.
I wondered if anyone had ever brought this issue to Richard's attention. I mean, someone really should. Personally, I'd be very eager to discover what his thoughts were on the subject. Yes, indeed, one way or another, SOMEONE should talk to him about it....
I flew from the tub with a splash, wrapped a fresh white Bill Blass terrycloth towel around my head, and beat a sudsy path to my PC. I began to type:
"Dearest Richard."
No, no, noooo! All wrong! "Dearest" was far too familiar, and, frankly, even fruitier than I wanted to sound. I began again:
"Dear Mr. Reid."
No. Too cold and formal. I needed something friendly, casual, and non-threatening. I didn't want to come across like some obsessed weirdo.
"Richard."
Perfect!
"I am a BIG fan of your work, and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind clearing something up for me. I've heard this little rumor that the folks at NWCN expect you to act really gay. Is this true? And what do you think about it? Any idea WHY they'd do such a thing? I am such a fan... I'd value your thoughts. Please feel free to shoot me an e-mail or contact me. Adrian."
For the next two days I was manic: I felt like a high-school girl waiting for the phone to ring. I checked and rechecked my e-mail compulsively, and every time the phone rang I jumped right out of my skin. Would he call? Would he write me back? He had all my contact information. And oh god... what if he DID call? What would I say? I can be such a DORK when I'm nervous. And what if he, like, invited me for coffee or something?! Or a drink!
As I awaited his reply I found myself having conversations with Richard in my head. I'd be brushing my teeth or window-shopping in Belltown and suddenly catch myself fantasizing, exploring possible scenarios: me and Richard having dinner at swank locales, talking all night long, comparing notes on all of the stars who've crossed our paths in this crazy thing we call life. We'd drink domestic cabernet at Cutter's or share saté at Wild Ginger and regale each other with hysterical anecdotes, like the time I pulled a big clump of Whitney Houston's hair from a hotel sink and presented it to friends for Christmas, or the time he and Sandra Bullock shared raw cookie dough. He'd toss that floppy dishwater hair with a laugh, flash those blinding teeth, and say things like, "Oh, Adrian! You are SUCH a gem! Why didn't we meet years ago?"
On the third day, I received an e-mail marked, "From: Richard Reid." I closed my eyes, swallowed hard, and clicked "Open."
"Hi Ryan!"
Ryan?
"I'm a big fan of your column--in fact it's the first thing I turn to each week! And thanks... can't think of anything I'd like to say... except 'Hook up to basic cable!' Thanks! Richard."
WHAT? I waited three days for "Hook up to basic cable, RYAN?" I composed myself, and calmly pecked out another e-mail:
"Hello again, Richard! Now, okay, okay--I understand. Talking to a writer from The Stranger (especially me) might seem (in some misguided circles) to be a bit... well... risky. BUT! I truly admire your wit and style... whaddaya say? Answer a few questions? Give me a few seconds of your time? Comment on NWCN's decision to let you be... so... well, GAY? On Pins and Delicious Needles, ADRIAN!"
His response was immediate.
"Hi Ryan--while I'm flattered you like what I'm doing, I don't think I have anything to add. Take care and keep watching! Richard."
Well FUCK RICHARD REID and the BIG GAY HORSE he rode in on!
NORTHWEST CABLE NOTHING
My wounded pride just wouldn't let the issue drop--he got my name wrong TWICE!--so I fired up the PC and began to peck out the next installment of Celebrity I Saw U.
"Is anyone out there as absolutely MAD about NorthWest Cable News' scrumptiously fey entertainment reporter Richard Reid as I am?" I wrote. "If anyone happens to be sitting on any delicious rumors about Richard...."
The issue hit the streets the following Thursday. I eagerly awaited responses to my blunt inquiry, something--ANYTHING--that would provide insight into this enigma known as Richard Reid. Was he painfully shy? Wildly egotistical? Or did he have some pathological phobia of gay, redheaded gossipmongers? Whatever it was, there had to be somebody out there who was in the know and willing to spill the beans. Reid has lived in Seattle for more than a decade; surely someone would step forward with a little dirt.
Days, days, and more days passed, and... nothing! Abso-fucking-lutely NOTHING! Didn't anyone feel the same way about Richard as I did? Didn't he have scores of fans, each enamored with his smoldering wit and jaunty sarcasm? Has the poor man never had sex?
I hit the queer clubs--Manray, R Place, Rosebud, Neighbours, and Arena--cornering and questioning herds of fags, from club kids to professionals to posers to prima donnas to way-too-young-to-be-in-here boys with eyes as big as dinner plates and glow sticks crunched between their molars. A tiny handful claimed to vaguely recall something about a funny gay dude on the news; the rest ran the gamut from "Who?" to "Maybe..." to "Isn't he the terrorist with bombs in his shoes?"
HOW could Richard have slipped beneath almost EVERYONE'S radar? HOW could he have dodged the notice of the population at large? He'd been on the air for FOUR outrageously fruity years! But it seemed that I was the only gay person in Seattle who knew Richard existed. It was weird. It was perplexing. It just didn't make any sense.
By the time I'd queried half the shirtless drunks at Arena, I was no longer angry about the rude way Richard had shrugged me off. Each "Richard who?" I got from sweaty strangers only seemed to increase my strange feelings of affection for Miss Richard. I felt sorry for the guy (he's been working his ass off in Seattle for four years and no one knows who he is?), but that wasn't the reason my anger drained away. No... it seemed that I was the only person in the whole known universe who knew--or gave a flying crap--that Richard Reid existed! And that was really... cool. Endearing. He was becoming like... well, like some fantastic local band of musicians I caught wind of before any of my friends or the major label that would later sign them, and long before they would make it big. It was like getting the joke WAY before everyone else! In a way he was mine--all mine!--as I appeared to be the only fag in Seattle who dragged his sorry ass out of bed at the crack of dawn for Richard and his reels. I knew, deep down and for certain, that one day this boy was going to be BIG (his fabulousness is far bigger than NWCN, far bigger than Seattle), and someday, when he's doing the weather on Today or hosting Talk Soup or something, I'll be able to say that I was into Richard way back when he was slaving away as NWCN's token homo.
I stumbled home and collapsed into bed: buzzy, smoky, and without any dirt or insight into this enigma, Richard Reid. But somehow I was a-okay with that now.
I woke with a start the next morning, cotton-mouthed and bleary-eyed. I squinted at the clock--6:45! I could JUST catch the end of Richard's Reels! I rolled over and pushed myself up, lurched to the living room, and flicked on Channel 2. "We all know vampires can suck the life right out of you, but their movie shouldn't." Ohhhh, goody! He was eviscerating Queen of the Damned. "Not bad enough to be good, this queen is so sloppy she'd get thrown out of the cheapest of dives." Flawless.
Bathed in the warm, nurturing glow of Richard's sarcasm that morning, I reflected. It was really a crying shame that more people weren't into the colorful craziness that is Richard Reid. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to gather a few friends together to watch him with me sometime. Start getting the word out. I could list at least half a dozen people right off the top of my head who I'm SURE would appreciate his salacious and singular sense of humor (and neckwear) as much as I do. I already had half a dozen of his interviews and a few entertainment reports on tape--I could edit the craziest ones together and make a "Best of My Buddy Richard" compilation! Then, when he finally gets discovered and jetted off to L.A. to head up the E! Network, me and all my friends will be able to say, "We knew him when...." Yes siree, SOMEBODY should get the word out about Richard Reid....
