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Michael Schramm was my first close student friend at San Francisco State. I met him the first week of school that fall of l960, and for years he was to be a close young gay friends and provide many hundreds of hours of challenging companionship.

Mike was the son of Wilbur Schramm, a professor of mass communications at Stanford University, and a noted scholar in that field of study. Mike was a brilliant young man, another Mensa member with an incredibly high I.Q. and a sophomore at State when I arrived.

Mike had one of the fastest and most retentive minds I ever encountered. He was also a very attractive young man, slender and rosy cheeked, with blonde hair, and very blue eyes at the top of a very pretty face. Mike was also gay. He was also neurotic, hyper active, a self-styled psychologist who loved to wallow in other people's minds and lives.

Mike seemed to remember everything his life had exposed him to. He forgot nothing. He was extraordinarily sensitive both to his own behaviors and to the behaviors and predispositions of others. He fell in love weekly, sometimes daily, and never really knew how to pursue his loves. From the first time I met him, he sensed I was gay, and told me of at least half-a-dozen loves he had experienced during his first year at college.

His major love and sex interest at the beginning of his second year was a young activist named Jefferson F. Poland. Jefferson was a beautiful smallish young man with a muscular and slender build, dark piercing eyes, a sweet and inviting smile when he wanted, and a great little compact body. He was a political and social activist; no cause or movement escaped Jefferson's attentions.

When the infamous House UnAmerican Activities Committee (HUAC) came to San Francisco in the spring of l960 to hold hearings investigating "subversive communist plots and threats in the Bay Area," Jefferson Poland, and hundreds of other students, protested vigorously at the San Francisco City Hall. As a result, Jefferson had been washed down the half a hundred marble City Hall steps by police and firemen trying to "restore order."

In falling down those marble steps he had suffered a broken ankle and was still limping a little when I first met him in September. He and I had a number of conversations over lunch and in my office, and I was attracted to him, especially when he produced a birth certificate "proving" to me that his middle initial, "F," actually stood for "Fuck."

Jefferson was also quite at home in the gay world, because he believed in the power and the beauty and the joys of sex, no matter the gender, the age, or the kind and type of sexual activity. Jefferson was a devoted and zealous believer in nudity. The first time he visited my Westgate home, he stripped to his cute bare body after his first drink, and after my permission, of course.

From then on he didn't even ask. And I always enjoyed the cute Jefferson. He was indeed very attractive and had a huge dick and a huge set of balls.

Most of the time Jefferson wanted to talk and plan protests and campaigns, not have sex. In the fall of l960 Jefferson had gotten involved with issues relating to his commitment to sexual freedom, "the right of anyone to have any kind of sex with anyone else whenever the two want, and the responsibility of the government to stay out of all matters pertaining to sex between and among people, including adult sex with so-called minors." Jefferson's agenda was an extensive and exhausting one. He championed more causes than a dozen people could have managed. During my first year at State I worked with him to get the funds for and build an outdoor "Free Speech Center" in the heart of the campus, a center with a large platform and public address equipment which would provide opportunity for all people who had messages they wanted the public to hear to present those messages.

We finally did get our Platform, and a budget for it, and during the years I was there we had an array of interesting public speakers at the Platform during the two noon hours it was available and during the late afternoon hours.

I remember Malcolm X, Norman Thomas, Governor Pat Brown, Richard Nixon, Eric Hoffer, Martin Luther King, Harry Bridges, and Fred Schwartz, among the better known guests. I remember also dozens, if not hundreds, of students and non-students who just wanted to stand on a platform to advocate something or reject something. The idea was a wonderful one for a college campus, and the Free Speech Center was a lively place indeed to spend a lunch hour. Jefferson Poland gets a doff of the hat for helping found it. I did not maintain contact with Jefferson after l965, but later in the decade he did found and head the "League for Sexual Freedom," and he was involved extensively with most of the protest movements of the l960's, the countercultural protests against the Vietnam War, the draft, and even, according to Martin Duberman, in the Stonewall protests in New York in l969.

In his book, Stonewall, Duberman recalled that Jefferson showed up at both the protests in l969 and at the first Gay Liberation Front parade in Los Angeles on the first anniversary of the Stonewall Riots, June, l970: "Karla....ran into two male genderfuck friends, Mother Boats and Jefferson Fuck Poland: Jeff was wearing a woman's bikini bottom, long hair--and nothing else." (Stonewall, pp.8l and 278).

Included in my collection is a photograph of Jefferson, taken in San Francisco, April, l963, which shows Jefferson holding two signs, one of which says "Legalize Cunnilingus and Fellatio;" the other, "Support our picket. Write to Governor Brown." Jefferson Fuck Poland, with a big smile and twinkling eyes, is naked except for a bra and a g-string. The place, our Free Speech Platform at San Francisco State College.

But back to Mike Schramm, and Jefferson Poland. In l960-6l Mike's big objective was to woo and win the heart of Jefferson and to settle in to a life in which all of Mike's sexual fantasies about Jeff would be fulfilled. When Mike inaugurated a crusade, he did so with great fervor and dedication, and only after an abundance of preparation and materials.

That year, Jefferson lived in an apartment a block or two from city hall. Mike staked out the apartment for weeks, compiling an hour to hour dossier on Jefferson's goings, and, Mike hoped, comings. Mike followed Jeff to school, to meetings, to classes, and back home. Mike came to know almost everyone Jefferson knew and knew Jefferson's schedule probably even better than Jefferson. After a few weeks, Mike had several spring-binders full of Jeffersonia. Their purposes and contributions to the quest I was never certain of, but I didn't have to be, since Mike knew precisely how his collected materials would be used to win the battle for the mind and body of Jefferson Poland. Having done such extensive preparation, how could he fail in his quest even if the use of the preparation were vague? Jefferson would be so overwhelmed that someone cared so much to know him so well that he would surrender immediately and completely.

 

 

 

 

 

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