Being in Los Angeles, First Church of the Nazarene had its share of members who were in the entrainment business. As the Mother Church for the denomination, we also received a good bit of attention from Headquarters in Kansas City, MO.
James Dobson and his Focus on the Family were a big thing in the 80’s. He was also a Nazarene. I don’t know if he still is. I came across documents just the other day that I have no recollection of. Nor do I know how they came to be in my possession. My mom found a poem, while cleaning my room, that I’d written in 1977—remember The Age of Reason? She transcribed it from the long strip of toilet paper I’d written it on. A few years later she wrote to Dobson and included the transcription of my poem. Dobson sent her a letter in reply.
Anyway…
Focus was working on a TV production to be shot in Los Angeles. They contacted First Church asking for people willing to volunteer for production and acting roles. The show was to consist of a series of vignettes with people of various ages talking about dealing with their life struggles and how God has been a part of that, and a studio audience setting with Dobson, where the audience discusses the various vignettes.
While I was more interested in a singing career, I was also dabbling in acting. After interviews and auditions, I was one of those chosen to tape a vignette and be on the crew for the recording of the audience segment. Paul M. was involved with the auditions and the interviews.
I’d known his name for a long time. Paul was the director for the Nazarene Young People’s Society, for the entire Church of the Nazarene. He’d been at Headquarters for a long time. When I met him, he was a good looking, middle-aged man. He had a wife and two kids. And a 200 gallon saltwater aquarium.
Paul took a special interest in me. He was there directing the taping of my vignette—a young adult, jogging through the park, stopping at a picnic table to deliver my lines. He chatted with me frequently and always had a hug for me. For the audience segment of the show, he had me handle cue cards for Dobson and other guests.
The day production wrapped, Paul invited me to dinner…just me. After dinner, he invited me back to his hotel. I wasn’t out yet, barely to myself really. But something inside me knew the connection between the two of us was more than just friendly. Sexual energy. I remember sitting in my car, nervous, not sure what was going to happen. I know once in his room, we chatted for quite a while before he invited me to spend the night. I did, willingly.
We didn’t have sex, but there was a lot of cuddling and touching that brought us close to it. I think guilt got the better of him and kept us in our underwear to go to bed. It was an awakening for me. I needed to accept my sexual urges. I’d admitted to myself I was gay, but had been putting the sexual part of that on the back burner.
We kept in touch over the months following our meeting. He would call or I would call his office. He wrote me letters. He wrote a letter to my parents telling them how proud they should be of the young man I’d turned out to be.
He also told me about Ron, the director of our Single Adult Ministry at the church. How they had become friends through camps and Ron’s involvement with the Youth Society. They too had had a special friendship. I remember him telling me there were times when they were together and Ron was obviously aroused. He never told me if it became sexual or not. But like with us, I’m guessing they came close to it.
I got to know Paul’s secretary, Sharon. At one point her son was moving to Los Angeles to pursue acting. She asked me if I could be of any help to him, it would be appreciated. I remember meeting him. He was very cute.
I called to talk to Paul one day.
It had been a while. She answered the phone, recognized my voice, and said she’d connect me with Paul. The other Paul S. in the youth department, my Paul’s boss.
He told me he was aware of my friendship with Paul, that he was ill with a nervous breakdown and had been hospitalized for treatment. He said it would be best if I didn’t try to contact Paul anymore. Ever.
I was stunned. And suspicious.
Ron had asked me about my friendship with Paul. I told him what I thought he needed to know. He told me about his friendship with Paul, but didn’t tell me all, either.
The night of the airing of the show—or maybe it was just a screening for us—the single adult group gathered at the Fellowship House to watch it. Several of us had taken part in one way or another and were anxious to see the fruits of our labors. The format was mainly the audience portion interspersed with the different vignettes. We watched the entire show. My vignette was missing. The credits rolled, listing those who had taken part as actors or as crew. My name was not there.
I was stunned. I was suspicious.
I never asked. Nothing was ever said. But I’m pretty sure Ron was concerned about my relationship with Paul and had contacted the other Paul. On being questioned or perhaps confronted with his homosexual tendencies, he chose to go through therapy rather than be exposed.
From time to time I wondered whatever happened to Paul, yet never tried to find out.
Until recently.
I came across his obituary. From a young age he’d been involved in theater and writing. He was involved with the Mosswood Children’s Theater along with the likes of David Carradine, Robert Darling, Jim Henson and Frank Oz.
Paul died in August of 2016, on Whidbey Island, WA, a short drive and a ferry ride from Bainbridge Island.
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