David Driver, Michael Musto, Machine Dazzle Are Debunking the Mythology of Stonewall

David Driver is a singer, songwriter, performer, and the creator of the docu-concert There’s a Riot Going On!: The Real Music & True Story of Stonewall. Among the show’s incredible performers is the legendary columnist Michael Musto and the Emmy-winning costume designer/drag queen/performance artist Machine Dazzle. The show premieres tomorrow, June 4, at Joe’s Pub in NYC, and will also run Wednesday June 11. To celebrate, David, Michael, and Machine got on a Zoom call to catch up about it all.
— Annie Fell, Editor-in-chief, Talkhouse Music

Michael Musto: Are we going to be showing our faces, or just audio?

David Driver: I think it’s actually just a transcript. But when we release the DVD and we want the special features, we’ll have this in our back pocket… OK, Machine has entered the waiting room. I think there’s a weird lag time. 

Michael: Oh, you have to admit him. 

David: Oh. There’s Machine Dazzle!

Machine Dazzle: I’m here! Hold on — I am on my phone, not on my computer. 

David: Michael Musto is also on his phone. I just want to say, first, thank you both for not having that fucking blurred background thing. I hate that so much. 

Machine: [Laughs.] I have nothing to hide!

Michael: I don’t either. 

David: It always dissolves half your head when you’re talking, and for someone as overly visual as me, it’s challenging. 

I have two or three questions that I’ve been thinking about, but my first question — and let me ask, Michael, you first — just out of curiosity, when did you come out, and how?

Michael: Well, here’s the irony: I am one of the kings of outing. I spent most of the ‘90s screaming that celebrities have to come out to the world. But I never sat my parents down and told them I was gay. Because we didn’t talk about anything, so why would I suddenly sit them down and talk about my private sexuality? That being said, I led an out gay life from the second I started as a Columbia graduate and a writer, which was in the 1970s. I was about 20 years old. I led an out life, and I involved my parents in that life. I brought them to the gay clubs, I brought all the queer people home for my mother to cook holiday dinners, and my parents went from deeply homophobic and religious to welcoming anybody queer and telling me they wished all gays were happy. So that’s my message to everyone: come out!

David: So, wait, you’re saying that your thing with your parents was implicit? But they got the implicit thing, and accepted it very well?

Michael: It was totally implicit because we never spoke about anything at length or talked about any serious issues. So it would have been absurd for me to sit them down and have a conversation about my sexuality. That being said, I did not hide anything about my life and my friends and the lifestyle I was leading from them. And they became captivated by it. They were swept along in this parade, and they went from literally thinking gays should be exterminated to wishing that every gay on earth was happy and fulfilled and celebrated.

David: It’s funny that you grew up in this situation where there wasn’t any communication, because your whole career is about communication. 

Michael: I think that’s the reason for it. I grew so frustrated with all the secrets — “Don’t tell mother,” “Don’t tell Michael,” “Don’t talk about that, shh.” When my aunt was sick with cancer, they didn’t even say the C-word. They just wouldn’t say anything, I would have to deduce. “Oh, aunt Angie is not well…” It made me so angry that I determined to become a writer where I uncovered secrets — these secrets that are treated as toxic but actually are liberating when they are released.

David: Damn, that’s true. Machine, what about you?

Machine: Oh, god, when was it? It was 1992, and it was my first year at university. In my first semester, I was taking all these studio classes, and I was loving it. And at the time, there was this bill that they were trying to pass called Amendment 2 in Colorado. A lot of people were talking about it. People were banning going to Colorado at the time — I don’t know if you remember this. 

David: Oh, yeah. “Colorado, the Hate State.”

Machine: Right. So I threw myself into action because I was no longer at home and I could kind of do whatever I wanted. I was making all these political posters with paint and words and my handprint and putting them all over campus — I was at the University of Colorado in Boulder. It was my first real time participating in any kind of activism. 

After my first semester, I came home and my parents were like, “OK, Mr. Artist, show us what you did this semester.” So I pulled out my portfolio and I had a number of these gay and queer posters, artwork related to this particular Amendment 2. And they were like, “Hmm. Mhm.” Later that night, my mother was upstairs and she said, “Matthew, could you come up here, please?” And so I went upstairs, and she said, “Come in and close the door.” There was my mother, sitting like a suburban queen on her bed. I sat on the side of the bed and she’s like, “I was really taking notice of your artwork, and I have a question for you… Are you a homosexual?” I said, yes, and then she started crying. My mother is the kind of person who reads the newspaper every day, she loves to watch the news, she’s very aware of the difficulties that the rainbow community faces, etc.. And she definitely had her own homophobic things growing up over the years. She called me a faggot a few times. 

David: Wow.

Machine: Anyway, then of course my father comes up the stairs in his underwear after watching TV in the living room. She’s like, “Jim, come in and close the door.” She was like, “Matthew just told me he’s a homosexual.” And my father let out this big exhale and was like, “Well, Debbie, I think we’ve all known that Matthew’s been different for quite some time.” [Laughs.] So blah, blah, blah, my mother was crying and it was kind of tense in the room, but it felt really good to finally say it. And at the end of the day, they knew. They all knew. They were just waiting for me to say something, waiting for me to say what I am — because they certainly didn’t want to encourage it. 

I think my parents didn’t really know what they brought into the world. But I will say that my mother did make efforts. And by the time she died, we had actually become friends and she was going to PFLAG. She changed in her lifetime. And after my mother died, we went to the airport — my dad had the ashes in the urn, and he was on his way to Maine, where my parents are from, to bury the ashes there — and he admitted something to me. He said, “Matthew, I knew you were gay since you were two years old.” Because I was just different from other children. I was definitely different from other boys.

David: The reason that I thought of that question is that yesterday, Lenny Zenith — who, for readers, is also in the show and is a trans activist, and I think transitioned as a teenager in the ‘80s — we were talking to somebody about the show, and he mentioned this song that’s in it called “I Can Never Go Home Anymore.” He was recounting what happens in the song, and he was recounting a completely different story than what actually happens. He was saying that it’s about a gay person who can’t go back to their house, which is not at all what the song is about. The song is about a girl who falls in love with a hot dude, and her mother tells her that she’s too young to be in love, but she doesn’t care and she leaves home with the hot dude. Then they break up, her mother dies of heartbreak, and she can never go home anymore. Which is sort of a parable for some experiences that gay people have coming up. But it made me think, because when I came out at the age of 21 — and I had been sexually active for seven years at that point — [my mom and I] were walking on the beach in Rhode Island, and she told me she was fine with it but it would kill my father. And it took me a while to realize that, in fact, what she was saying was, “You’re killing me.” When I told my father, he was like, “Yeah, I thought so.” So, I mean, same thing. And he later evolved to the point where he loved Jason, my partner. He had a huge amount of respect for him. He wrote letters to the newspaper in DeLand, Florida, about, “People should stop giving gay people a hard time,” or whatever. But my mother — I think both of you have nicer stories, in a way. I don’t think she was ever able to make peace with it. She felt a great deal of shame. And she died 30 years ago, so that was never resolved. I think that’s part of the reason that I do the kind of stuff that I do.

Michael, you’re a journalist. Will you ask a probing question?

Michael: Well, let me just say about the parental thing: part of what they’re feeling is homophobia, but another part of it is genuine concern, because they know you’re going to live as part of a marginalized community. And of course, when I came out, it was before AIDS, but in the ‘80s and ‘90s, AIDS was truly raging. And I actually remember my father — how’s this for passive aggressive? — he wrote me a long letter about the dangers of anal sex. I wanted to say, “Can we go back to where we did not communicate at all?” [Laughs.] So it’s a complex bunch of feelings that parents of queer kids go through. 

But I’ve noticed that famous parents are OK with it. Maybe they have more money to make it OK for their kids.You see all these photo sessions of Liev Schreiber, Lea Salonga, Annette Bening, “We love our trans kids.” So, here’s a probing question: why is it that rich people seem to be more supportive of their trans kids? 

David: But didn’t Cher have a little meltdown when Chastity Bono transitioned to Chaz?

Michael: Of course, but that was the first example. That was a long time ago. And you can’t even be mad at Cher — the great thing about her is she makes her life an open book and she’s honest with her public about her feelings. So she told the truth when she said, “I feel like I’m losing a daughter.” She didn’t sugarcoat it. She put you in the mind of what a lot of parents of trans kids were going through at that point. And then she shows you the evolution, “I love my son Chaz and there’s nothing I would do to change Chaz.”

David: To be clear, I could never not love Cher. I love Cher, and I feel like anyone would be crazy not to.

Michael: But she was the test case in this whole trans thing, and I thought she behaved perfectly. Because she was honest, she didn’t sugarcoat her feelings, and she came around with total pride. But I wrote a column once about the trans son of Warren Beatty and Annette Bening. It didn’t seem like Warren and Annette wanted to talk about him, I wasn’t sure that he was getting enough support from them. So I wrote a column in support of him, and he put something on Twitter saying, “Thank you, but leave us alone. We’re doing fine.” And it made me think, Well, maybe it’s none of my fucking business. You know? But I wonder if this situation is different for celebrity families. Maybe because in showbiz, they work with so many queer people, whereas, Machine, maybe in in Maine, your parents didn’t know a lot of queer people up close and personal.

Machine: Oh, they definitely did not. They grew up in a really small town. So they did the best they could with the tools that they had. We learn and we grow. And I’m sure that they would have preferred not to have to deal with it. They did have shame when I was growing up. I remember a time when I felt really free and I felt really myself, probably when I was four or five years old, but it was around that time where I started to be silenced. I was a little too flamboyant, a little too dramatic. I ran like a girl, I loved to do girl things. They were ashamed to buy me girl toys — I shoplifted my first Barbie. We would go to the toy store and my two brothers would run to the black and blue aisle, and I would run to the pink aisle. Because all the boy toys were about destruction and war and all of that crap, and then the girls section was like, home and nurturing and emotional building and flowers. [Laughs.] 

I mean, that’s how I grew up. But like I said, we weren’t terribly cultured. We were very working class American people in the suburbs, where the houses are all the same. To this day, my father and I do not talk about sexuality. In fact, I’m leaving for Colorado tomorrow to see him for the first time in six years, because my nephew is getting married. In his way, he does show his love and support, and he’s really happy that I’m coming. I think that he has love for me, and he admires me, and he’s proud of my accomplishments, but he doesn’t have much to say about it. He’s never seen me perform. He can’t look at me in pictures when I’m in drag. When I had my exhibit at the Museum of Art and Design, there was a catalog, and it’s very beautiful; I sent one to him, and he didn’t say anything. 

David: But the recognition that you’ve received, does he get it?

Machine: No, I don’t think so. I won an Emmy and I’m not entirely sure he knows. And then I have all these other obscure awards, like an Obie, an Irene Sharaff award, and a Bessie. He doesn’t know what any of those are. He doesn’t go to theater. He doesn’t go to museums. He’s just very old fashioned and very simple. 

Michael: You have to stop caring what they think, because you’re never going to get their validation. If I had cured cancer, my mother would have said, “You couldn’t cure lymphoma, too?” So just set your own goals for yourself. 

To go back to my childhood: like you, Machine, I played with dolls. I had so much fun playing with two girls next door, Adrianne and Rosalie. The three of us had a little Three’s Company thing playing with dolls, and I kept thinking, I’m gonna get found out. They’re gonna blow my cover. And they were so accepting of me, they never made fun of me. And my father was pretty absentee, so he didn’t care. So I never got found out. 

David: When I was a kid, I actually did not play with dolls at all. I loved G.I. Joe, but I think I might have been attracted to him. I really loved Hot Wheels and Matchbox — and I still have all my Hot Wheels and Matchbox cars, but I’ve come to think that what I really liked was the industrial design of the cars. I didn’t really care about the engines of the cars or anything like that. But I think it explains my mother’s confusion when I did come out, because I think that as a child, I didn’t have those tells. And I remember very clearly being, like, eight years old, numerous times standing next to her and having her say to people, “He’s all boy.” Which looking back it’s like, Methinks the lady doth protest too much. [Laughs.]

Michael: But to talk a little bit about Stonewall—

Machine: Oh, right. [Laughs.] 

Michael: Because that’s what our two evenings are about at Joe’s Pub. It’s a docu-concert called There’s a Riot Going On!. We did this last year for one night at City Winery, and it was called The Stonewall Jukebox. It basically tells the story of the pivotal moment in the queer community in 1969 when we fought back against the cops. Let me make it clear: There was no Capitol building that we invaded. We did not go in and smear feces on the wall of a public building and try to kill people. We were the ones who were invaded. On a nightly basis, the cops came into these gay bars like the Stonewall in the West Village to get their money from the mob that owned the bars. And in the process of getting their payoffs, they would harass the clientele. If anybody was making out, dancing same-sex together, they would bust you. They would drag you to jail. They would beat you up. So we finally fought back. 

I didn’t know about this at the time. I was a kid with my parents in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. I knew I was gay, but I hadn’t done anything about that, and I certainly was not a gay activist at this point. And if you read about Stonewall in the local press, it was pretty much against the gays. It called them queens and made them sound all entitled. The Village Voice, which I worked for, and still work for, a supposedly liberal paper — there was one article where they took a semi-negative approach to reporting on it. However, the impact of it, as people started assimilating what it was about, was tremendous change, because the next year was the first Pride parade in New York. That meant that the queer community had mobilized, organized, and [queerness] ceased to be a mental illness. It ceased to be illegal. You could walk holding hands with a guy and you could be in a parade.

David: Don’t give away the whole plot. We have to keep some surprises. 

Michael: I mean, this is like saying, “Don’t give away Hamlet.” This happened in 1969. [Laughs.] “Don’t say who won the Civil War!”

David: Michael, don’t say who won the Civil War! Don’t fuck it up!

Machine: I won!

David: One thing that is very true is that there is a beautiful tapestry of mythology that has evolved around Stonewall in the time since it happened. And obviously Pride happens because of Stonewall — it happens the last weekend in June because that happened. But there are a lot of things that people just don’t know. And then a lot of it is commonly perceived, but it didn’t actually happen that way. One of the things that I have really loved about researching this show is seeing the difference between the perceived mythology and the reality of it, and sometimes the reality is more interesting and weirder and funnier. I think there’s a bit more humor in this new iteration of the show. Also — I can’t remember if I told you — Eric Marcus, who has the Making Gay History podcast, is letting us use actual archival audio from interviews with Marsha P. Johnson, who was at Stonewall; Sylvia Rivera, who was not but acted like she was; Randy Wicker, who was roommates with Marsha P. Johnson; Barbara Gittings, who was very powerful in the early movement. So they get to sort of join the dialogue.

Michael: Supposedly Marsha was there later the first night. Right? And expressly said, “I did not throw the first brick.” Because we love to create these icons who did more than they actually did. And now we have RuPaul who tells everybody that the only reason Stonewall happened is Judy Garland had just died… That’s absurd. I mean, yes, that was a factor that our greatest diva had passed; that was definitely a subtext, just like any revolution has to have subtext hanging in the air that creates the mood. But that’s not the reason Stonewall happened.

David: Well, it’s not the reason, but I think one really interesting thing to look at is this very random confluence of events that came together to make it happen. It was a very random series of things. It was the cops fucking up something, it was the special task force not telling the cops what they were doing and not getting any backup, it was the fact that they did it on a Saturday night, Sunday morning, when everyone was deep into party mode and pumped up. A lot of different things. And then a lot of random things came into play in the weeks and months afterward. As you guys probably know, initially there was some press coverage, but not really that much. It wasn’t until a few months later that activists realized what they had and seized onto it, and turned it into the explosion that it eventually became.

Machine: I would like to say, there’s a breaking point. I feel like right now, there’s a lot of shit going on, and I’m like, There’s going to be a breaking point. Sometimes you have just had it. I feel like with Stonewall, someone snapped, and then a couple other people — it gave them agency to do the same. It’s like nature itself: You build up enough pressure, there’s going to be an explosion.

David: I really wonder how that will play out in our current moment, when we have a political regime that is doing everything it can to divide us as people, to demonize queer people, to demonize trans people. I really wonder what’s going to evolve out of that.

Machine: Yeah, I wake up every day and I’m like, Should I look at my phone or should I give it 30 minutes? [Laughs.] Should I make my tea before I look at my phone? You have to be kind to yourself, and how much toxic information can you take? 

David: Very little, on my part. I rely on my life partner, Jason, to tell me if there’s something I really need to know. Otherwise, the only thing I read is basically the New Yorker in the bathtub. 

Michael: When I came of age, I started reading about gay history and learning of all the advances we had made, like Stonewall, and how the community mobilized and organized. I never thought I’d live long enough to see all of that peeled away step-by-step. You think you’re going to keep marching forward. It doesn’t work that way. It goes in cycles. Things might get worse than pre-Stonewall.

David: I mean, let’s hope they don’t. But yeah, anything is possible. It’s a crazy time.

Michael: And as I get older, I don’t want to fight every day. I’m like John Waters — John Waters doesn’t want to be raging all the time. You want to enjoy your success and enjoy your life in your twilight years. But you have to summon that fire again. You have to fight.

David: That’s true. 

Michael: If I even just look at Twitter for five seconds, it’ll get me so incensed I’m ready to start protesting in the streets again.

David: I don’t look at that. But the truth is, I didn’t intend to be doing this project at this moment in my life. I was doing this other thing and very focused on it, but this came up and was in the road in front of me, and at the time I felt a little bit derailed. But now, given the way things have unfolded, I’m like, Oh, OK, I see why I’m doing this, because this is what I should be doing at this moment. This is what I can actually do in terms of making an impact on our culture. Which is, I think, the biggest reason that keeps my fire going in regard to this, and I’m really glad that you two and the other people who are doing it with me are doing it. 

Michael: Well, thanks for including us. Usually we’re in just variety shows that are fun but have no deeper meaning to them, but this truly resonates. It’s an entertaining concert of some of your favorite old songs that are lodged in your consciousness, but it’s also a meaningful docu-history of an important moment.

David: So, in conclusion, what we’ve been talking about is There’s A Riot Going On!: the Real Music & True Story of Stonewall, which is a documentary concert featuring my close personal friends, Michael Musto and Machine Dazzle. I gotta say, everybody in this show is really very good. Did you know that Eden Espinosa is doing the show?

Machine: I did, I saw it in the advertisement.

David: I’m very happy about that. She’s so great. Anyway, Joe’s Pub, June 4 and June 11. Does anybody want to say anything else in conclusion? Have we missed anything?

Michael: No. We’ve covered every single thing there is.

Machine: Except that the title of the show makes a cute anagram. TARGO!

David: It’s like that Ben Affleck movie, but with a T in front of it. 

Michael: It’s better than that Ben Affleck movie.

David: OK, the last thing I’ll say is: when I first lived in New York, I worked as a production assistant on an after school special starring Madeline Kahn, and Ben Affleck was the child lead in it. I drove Ben Affleck around in a station wagon for two weeks when I was about 21 years old, and he threw up in the car. 

Michael: Was he a little brat?

David: No, he was very nice and very polite. I think he just got sick. But I did have to clean it up. Anyway, I really appreciate your joining me today here.

Michael: Thank you. And we’ll see you at Joe’s Pub.

Machine: Joe’s Pub or bust!

Go see TARGO! at Joe’s Pub tomorrow, June 4, or next Wednesday June 11.