Outlaw Marriages (31 page)

Frances Clayton accompanied her partner, during the break between semesters, to a private clinic in Switzerland where Lorde began taking herbal medications to strengthen her immune system. On an emotional level, Lorde leaned heavily on Clayton while at the clinic, with comments in her personal journal acknowledging that “Frances, good old trooper that she is,” provided unconditional support.
56

Despite Clayton's devotion during these difficult times, Lorde began the process of ending their relationship. Comments in her journal in early 1986 suggest that Lorde knew her action was selfish, considering all that Clayton had done for her, but was driven by her determination “to live the rest of my life with as much joy as possible.” Her doctor told Lorde she had no more than five years to live.
57

It isn't clear exactly when Lorde informed her partner that she'd fallen in love with someone else, but there's no question that Clayton was devastated by the news.
58

By mid 1986, Lorde had resigned from her job at Hunter College and was living with Gloria Joseph on St. Croix. For the next two years, Lorde saw Clayton only briefly when she came to New York to deal with practical matters. The couple dated the official end of their relationship to 1988 when they sold the Staten Island house. The breakup was extremely painful for Clayton, who retired and moved to northern California in 1989.
59

The final half dozen years of Audre Lorde's life were defined by a mixture of physical pain and personal triumph. Her liver cancer caused constant discomfort, often to the point that she couldn't function. Lorde's medicine of choice was the restorative power that came from a life surrounded by the warmth, sunlight, and beauty of the Caribbean combined with the positive energy that emanated from her new partner. Professional accolades helped, too, as she published four more books, and was honored in 1991 as the official poet of New York State.
60

Lorde died in 1992 on St. Croix, with Gloria Joseph at her bedside. America's leading newspapers reported the death, with the
Los Angeles Times
saying the fifty-eight-year-old literary icon's “drive for black female power dominated the best of her work,” and the
Boston Globe
stating, “As a contributor to women's literature, her influence was monumental.” None of the obituaries mentioned Frances Clayton, although the
New York Times
identified Gloria
Joseph as Lorde's “companion.”
61

Lorde's two children organized a memorial service honoring their mother at New York City's Cathedral of St. John the Divine. More than four thousand people attended the event that celebrated Lorde's many achievements.
62

Lorde's stature continued to rise after her death. Today she is regarded as one of the most important American women writers of the late twentieth century, and her literary works are incorporated into courses offered at colleges and universities around the world. Each year, thousands of new students are introduced to her powerful voice by reading either her books or samples of her shorter works that have been reprinted in dozens of anthologies. Typical of the statements summarizing Lorde's distinctive contributions is the following one from the book
New Black Feminist Criticism, 1985–2000:

Audre left for us words that many black women had been too afraid to speak. We had been taught that silence was golden, that it could protect you. Yet, as our daily lives and statistics proclaimed, we were steadily being attacked from within our homes as well as from without. Audre Lorde refused to be silenced, refused to be limited to any one category, insisted on being all that she was: poet, black, mother, lesbian, feminist, warrior, activist, woman.
63

In 1998, Frances Clayton moved to Sun City, Arizona, where the climate helped ease her pain from arthritis. She continues to be in frequent contact with both Elizabeth Lorde-Rollins and Jonathan Rollins. “They are wonderful people,” Clayton said in 2011, “who have enhanced my entire life.”
64

To make my final point in this book, I've chosen to violate one of the guiding principles I established in the prologue. That is, I'm going to talk about a same-sex couple who hasn't made a substantial contribution to the nation—merely a minor one. This final outlaw marriage is my own.

When I first became a college professor, I focused exclusively on teaching. I'd worked as a newspaper reporter and editor, and I wanted to share what I'd learned with the next generation of journalists. I hadn't done much academic research or writing, and I didn't intend to change that.

In my fourth year on the faculty, however, my colleagues at the university told me I was doing an excellent job of teaching but … if I didn't build a record of research in the next two years, I wouldn't be granted tenure. In short, I was about to perish because I hadn't published.

The day I heard that news, I went home in a rage. I had a new boyfriend at the time, and so I unloaded on him. “I became a
teacher
so I could
teach
,” I screamed, “not so I could write articles for esoteric journals that nobody even reads! I'm not going to do it! I'm going to continue being a great teacher and that's that!”

My boyfriend heard me out and then said, in a soft voice, “But if you don't do the research, doesn't that mean you won't be
allowed
to teach after two more years?”

Those were words I didn't want to hear. I turned to him and asked (read: screeched), “So you're saying I shouldn't care about being a good teacher and I should only care about doing worthless research?”

He responded, “I'm not saying you shouldn't be a good teacher. But maybe you could try doing the research, too—at least for the next two years. Then you can teach forever.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Who knows, maybe you'll even like doing the research.”

I glared at him. “If I do any research, it will be the absolute
minimum
I have to do, I assure you of that.” I then stomped out of the room.

It was only after a few more minutes of seething that I started thinking that, well, maybe he had a point.

That very tense conversation took place more than two decades ago.

Since then, I've published seven books. I've also published twenty-eight articles in academic journals, and I've presented thirty-four papers at academic conferences. Along the way, I was awarded tenure, promoted to full professor, and honored as American University's scholar/teacher of the year.

And so, as the final statement in my eighth book, I want to thank Tom Grooms, who set me on my path toward becoming a reasonably successful academic, as well as the guy who shared an outlaw marriage with me for twenty-eight years … until the District of Columbia approved same-sex marriage legislation last year and we then legally became husband and husband.

A book with a scope as broad as this one—looking at the lives of thirty women and men from the mid-nineteenth century to the present day—must be built, at least partly, on the research of earlier biographers. The endnotes for the various chapters contain citations to the works these scholars provided me, but I also want to acknowledge their contributions here.

Because of the nature of
Outlaw Marriages
, some of these biographers were particularly helpful. One example that comes to mind is James Weber Linn, who wrote the 1968 book
Jane Addams: A Biography
. Linn explored the personal life of the legendary social worker and Nobel Peace Prize winner—who was also his aunt—with much more depth than previous biographers had, including making the statement that “Mary Smith became and always remained the highest and clearest note in the music that was Jane Addams's personal life.” That sentence hinted at the hidden history of Jane Addams and Mary Rozet Smith's outlaw marriage, which I was then able to describe more fully after reading the women's correspondence and other papers at Swarthmore College and the University of Illinois.

Two more individuals I'm deeply indebted to made their contributions as I was writing the final chapter. During the early stages of my research on Audre Lorde and Frances Clayton, I was forced to rely heavily on the only biography that's been written about Lorde. Regrettably, that book contained only bits and pieces of information about Clayton, even though she'd been an enormous force in Lorde's life. I still remember how excited I was on the day that I contacted Lorde's daughter, Elizabeth Lorde-Rollins, and learned that she was eager not only to help me illuminate her mother's outlaw marriage but also to put me in touch with Clayton, who by this point was eighty-five years old and had retired to Arizona. That initial contact led to any number of e-mails, letters, and phone conversations between me and both Lorde-Rollins and Clayton that allowed me to include the details, in this book, that Lorde's biography had left untold.

After the previous paragraph, I need to explain that I wasn't, in fact, the person who tracked down Lorde-Rollins. That feat was accomplished by my dear and incredibly resourceful friend, Kim Gazella. As my final deadline for
submitting this manuscript was approaching, I turned to Kim with a request (read: scream for help!). “I've signed a contract for my book, which is great,” I told Kim, breathlessly, “but now I have to locate photos and get permission to use them, and, and, … I'm feeling totally overwhelmed … so I'm wondering if. …” Before I even finished asking her, Kim said, “I can help!” And help she did. With a level of energy, creativity, and persistence beyond anything I could have hoped for, Kim tracked down the photos that now add so very much to this book, and while doing all that, she also located Lorde-Rollins for me. Thank you, Kim.

I also want to express my gratitude to Gayatri Patnaik, executive editor at Beacon Press, for her invaluable role in shaping this book into its final form and to Howard Yoon, my literary agent, for finding precisely the right publisher for this project.

Finally, I want to thank my colleague at American University, Journalism Division director Jill Olmsted, for her unstinting support of my work and my former graduate assistant Matt Stevens for his wonderful help in conducting research at the Library of Congress.

1
. On Whitman's early years, see David S. Reynolds,
Walt Whitman
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), 1–6; “Walt Whitman Dead,”
Chicago Tribune
, March 27, 1892, 5; “Walt Whitman Dead,”
Washington Post
, March 27, 1892, 1; “Walt Whitman's Career,”
New York Times
, March 27, 1892, 10. Whitman's parents were Walter Whitman Sr. and Louisa Van Velsor Whitman.

2
. “Walt Whitman Dead,”
Chicago Tribune
, 5; “Walt Whitman Dead,”
Washington Post
, 1; “Walt Whitman's Career,”
New York Times
, 10.

3
. Reynolds,
Walt Whitman
, 10–11.

4
. Walt Whitman,
Complete Poetry and Collected Prose
(New York: Library of America, 1982), 40, 57.

5
. David S. Reynolds,
Walt Whitman's America
(New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1995), 341–42; Whitman,
Complete Poetry
, 1326.

6
.
Leaves of Grass: A Textual Variorum of the Printed Poems / Walt Whitman
, Sculley Bradley, Harold W. Blodgett, Arthur Golden, and William White, eds. (New York: New York University Press, 1980), 1:262; Reynolds,
Walt Whitman
, 14–17; Whitman,
Complete Poetry
, 311.

7
.
Whitman's Manuscripts: Leaves of Grass
(1860), Fredson Bowers, ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1955), 116.

8
. “Walt Whitman's Career,”
New York Times
, 10.

9
. On Doyle's early years, see Henry Bryan Binns,
A Life of Walt Whitman
(New York: Haskell House, 1905), 230; Martin G. Murray, “‘Pete the Great': A Biography of Peter Doyle,”
Walt Whitman Quarterly
12, no. 1 (Summer 1994): 1–3; Charley Shively, ed.,
Calamus Lovers: Walt Whitman's Working-Class Camerados
(San Francisco: Gay Sunshine Press, 1987), 100. Doyle's parents were Peter Doyle Sr. and Catherine Nash Doyle.

10
. Binns,
A Life
, 230; Murray, “‘Pete the Great,'” 3–10; Shively,
Calamus Lovers
, 100.

11
. Binns,
A Life
, 230; Murray, “‘Pete the Great,'” 10–13; Reynolds,
Walt Whitman's America
, 487.

12
. Richard Maurice Bucke, ed.
Calamus: A Series of Letters Written During the Years 1868–1880 by Walt Whitman to a Young Friend (Peter Doyle)
(Boston: Small, Maynard & Company, 1897), 23.

13
. Bucke,
Calamus
, 23.

14
.
Ibid., 24–25; Murray, “‘Pete the Great,'” 19, 27.

15
. Murray, “‘Pete the Great,'” 14; Shively,
Calamus Lovers
, 117.

16
. Murray, “‘Pete the Great,'” 27;
Walt Whitman: The Correspondence
, Edwin Haviland Miller, ed. (New York: New York University Press, 1961–1977), 2:84–85.

17
. Murray, “‘Pete the Great,'” 17–21; Reynolds,
Walt Whitman's America
, 487.

18
. Bucke,
Calamus
, 26.

19
. Murray, “‘Pete the Great,'” 19;
Walt Whitman: Prose Works 1892
, Floyd Stovall, ed. (New York: New York University Press, 1963), 1:111.