ustxtxb_obs_2007_03_09_50_00031-00000_000.pdf

SPECIAL ORDER THE MOLLY TRIBUTE ISSUE The Observer published and mailed to our subscribers a special issue on February 9 that includes tributes from Molly’s friends and colleagues, and photos from her life. Many readers have requested additional copies, and Molly fans have asked how they can obtain one. through our web site: www.texasobserver.org/molly interested in gay and lesbian politics. She would not let Jess or me help as she made trays of enchiladas and, bowls of salad and squeezed fresh lime juice for margaritas. At sunset, we loaded the food into a borrowed sedan and drove to the restaurant where the event was to take place. When we arrived, the door was locked. After Laura knocked for several minutes, the owner opened the door a crack and explained that there had been a bomb threat. We could not have our party at her restaurant. We were not certain if there had been an actual bomb or if the bomb was in her head. Back in 1991, none of us had cell phones, so we could not call around town to find a new location. We drove to Metropolitan Community Church, located in a storefront near I-10. Laura managed to get a key and open the place for the party. Someone posted a sign at the original site with the address for the new location. I had started to make conciliatory comments like, “Well, if no one shows up, then there will be more food for us, right?” I needn’t have worried. A large number of people found their way to the church. Mostly Hispanics, but also some Anglos: a couple of pretty drag queens, hairdressers, AIDS workers, teachers, small-business owners. Laura gave me a lavender corsage, and I gave a short speech. A TV news crew interviewed us. As the party ended, two burly guys entered the building and approached Laura. At first we were alarmed, but then we realized that they had, apparently, just crossed the border and were hungry. Laura fed them, and they left. That night, back at the trailer, the telephone rang several times after midnight as people who had seen Laura and me on the news called to express their extreme disdain for gays and lesbians. They threatened Laura. We were frightened, and no one slept much. But we were happy. The party had netted $1,700, which seemed a huge sum considering the context. Fast-forward to September 2006. Many years ago, I traded in my job as gay rights lobbyist for a steady government job. Like most women in the post 9/11 world, I have exchanged my jewel-tone suits for more somber colors. I don’t travel much anymore and spend most of my time with my family in Austin. On September 19, on the same day that the front page of the Austin American-Statesman carried a story on Ann Richard’s memorial service, the paper’s metro-state section carried a front-page photo of a handsome young man looking upward: Ian MacIntosh, Laura’s son who was a child practicing the cello the last time I saw him. The article said he had flown to Austin from Los Angeles to hear the sentencing phase of a criminal trial: In 2005, Laura MacIntosh, who had moved to Austin, was murdered by her husband, a femaleto-male transsexual. \(This person was not the same gentle woman we met “Victim’s son confronts killer:’ I subtly pushed the paper in front of Jess so our precocious first-grade son would not read it. Jess’s eyes filled with tears. Rest in peace Laura Madntosh. She joins those who have been taken from us before anyone was ready. We are the poorer for having to live in this world without leaders like her. Rest in peace New Texas. Live on youthful exuberance. Laurie Eiserloh and her partner of 17 years, the endlessly patient Jess Chapin, who appears in this story, are the proud mothers of two children. Ms. Eiserloh is an Assistant City Attorney for the City of Austin. MARCH 9, 2007 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 31