David Fuller      April 1, 1947 - Jan 11, 1989

"Hey you, come with me!" 

When I met David on the steps of Sproul Hall in Berkeley,  I had just hitch hiked back to Berkeley from San Francisco.  I had been out all night in the city, eventually crashing at the Ritch St Baths.  I was still sort of sleepy, and watching the usual characters do their thing around Ludwigs Fountain. I hadn't yet made it home.  I heard that voice saying "Hey You", but didn't really look up right away to see who it was.  When I did, I thought I heard angels sing!  There was this very good looking guy, asking me to come with him.  What else could I do?  I went!

As it turned out David was a seminarian at the Church Divinity School of the Pacific.  He was studying to be an Episcopal Priest!  Well, I was taken back a bit, that here I was being taken into a seminary.  But that was Dave, he was never shy about his sexuality.  I fell head over heels for David!  That euphoria lasted about a year.  However, Dave and I were to spend much of the rest of our lives either as roommates or just very good friends.  I never strayed far.  Dave was quite a man about town.  He had a certain charm, that everyone fell for. 

We lived together through his years at CDSP.  Although he had many lovers, after me.  Unfortunately Daves Bishop in Louisiana, did not approve of Davids lifestyle.  He was denied ordination. He however, did get his DD.  He could have been ordained in California, but he declined.  He had a few different jobs, one of which was with me, as custodians at a Presbyterian Church in Richmond California.  He later on, became Assistant Chaplain at Mills College in Oakland. He had a few other jobs after that, and a few other lovers.  All of whom, made my list of dear friends. 

In 1984 David moved to Seattle, to be with his then partner John Crosby.  John was then working for the Milwaukee Road Railway in Seattle.  David also ended up working for the Railroad. They worked for the railroad for over ten years. Both he and John eventually retired from the railroad which by then had been absorbed by  Burlington Northern.  It was at this time that David met his final partner, David Payne.  We all referred to him as "Little Dave" though.  All three of us, volunteered during the mid eighties for "The Chicken Soup Brigade", an AIDS support group.  David also became a counselor for SHANTI at this time.  We watched, as many of the young men we cared for, eventually succumbed to AIDS.  It was a trying time, for all of us.  Then in 1986 Dave said, " I think I have AIDS".  He had discovered a purplish patch on his leg.  It slowly grew, and more appeared.  Dave had KS!  It's one thing to care for strangers, dying from a terrible disease.  It's quite another, to see one of your dearest friends going through the same!  David finally succumbed to AIDS, shortly after New Years in 1989.  My life would never be the same without him.  He was my confidant, and the big brother that I never had.

Victor Villarreal

Victor Villareal

Nov 1, 1930  -  Jan 18, 1994

 Victor was one of my very best friends.  I don't know how many times, I was without a place to live.  Never once did he turn me away from his door!

I first met Victor when Bill Sandlin brought me up to his house, in the Montclair Hills.  It was a magical place, and there was always music, and people there.  Victor was a window trimmer at Smiths, a mens store in downtown Oakland.  He was also a very good artist.  He lived in that house in the hills for many years.  I lived there from time to time over the years with him and his partner Dave Hoffmann.  I introduced them unwittingly.  I was dating Dave, and one day brought him with me to Victors house.  Well, that was the end of one relationship, and the beginning of another.  David was Victors partner up until the end.

Of course there was a short time, when I was not happy with Victor.  I called him a few bad names, but got over it.  I realized he was way too good of a friend, to lose over someone I was only dating.  It was only shortly after they became lovers, that I moved in. I was never made to feel, like a third wheel. By that time I was over it.  Victor and I had our differences. I didn't always like his artwork, although I always asked his advice on  my own!  He was a homebody, I wasn't.  He once told me " I could live anywhere.  I make any place my home".  I was just the opposite, and still am.  I cannot live somewhere that I don't particularly like.   I have to like what is outside my window.  Vic on the other hand, created his spaces.  I still remember that house in the hills, with it's big overstuffed cushions.

It was eclecticism to the extreme.  He had Mexican furniture mixed with Moroccan rugs and lamps, and lots of houseplants.  He had a green thumb as well.  Somehow it all came together in a magical way.  You just felt comfortable there!

In the  eighties, Vic and Dave opened a gallery in  Emeryville. " The Hoffmann Gallery" , displayed much of Victors artwork.  It was also their home.  It was so much different than that little house in the hills.  That house burned in the Berkeley Hills fire in 1993.  All that remained of it was it's chimney.  The gallery was a good sized loft.  It had a second level , that was their living space.  The kitchen and laundry were on the first level, in the rear.

Vic and Dave lived here up until the early nineties.  David got wanderlust, and moved to San Francisco.  Vic I think, felt part of his life was gone.  I was living by now, in Florida, so only talked now and then by phone.  The last time I saw Vic was in 1995.  He had a young friend Shaun, living with him at that time.  Shaun was a good kid, but he had a drug problem.  One day he went into San Francisco, and later was found dead by Vic, from a drug overdose.  Vic became deeply depressed. He told me one day that he just couldn't go on, without Shaun. One day I got a call from David,  " Vic took his life!".   He went the same way Shaun did,  however it was not an accident.  He did not want to live after the loss of Shaun.  I will miss him, and his friendly smile.

                                                       Bill Sandlin
                                               Aug 1, 1944 - Dec 2, 2010

Bill was probably my second best friend.  I met him one night along with my friend Paul shortly after coming back to San Francisco in 1969.  Shortly after we became roommates, with about five other people at 25 Hugo Street. Those were my Hippie days. I snuck this one when he wasn't looking.  We were camping out at Salmon Creek in Big Sur California. The picture above is the only one I have of Bill.  He was allergic to cameras!   I remember it was a wonderful time.  I had just turned twenty one!  We decided to hitch to LA the next morning.  It was a trip I will never forget. We lived on and off together up until the mid eighties.  We had many adventures together hitchiking all over California.  Besides being camera shy, he also collected people!  That was how we met.  When we were roommates, he was always bringing in some person who had no place to live.  I met many of my friends thru Bill.  Usually we would find a place together, and I would end up with a bunch of roommates, and Bill would take off for parts unknown.

Bill would come and go from my life.  He was a wanderer.  He was always going somewhere.  Whether it was San Blas, Mexico or Vancouver, Canada.  He would disappear, then months later would reappear, with tales of his adventures. Sometimes with a new found friend.  The last time I saw him he was living in Sarasota.  He said he couldn't wait to get out of Florida.  He was born here, but except for his folks had no ties that bound him.  When his father passed on in 1995 he headed to San Diego, with his boyfriend Nathan.  We exchanged letters for awhile.  Then the letters stopped.  A few years ago, I finally found that he had passed away.  I don't know just what happened.  Bill will remain in my heart forever.

Paul Herrera

 

Paul Herrera  June 1 1949 - May 15 1991

Paul was my best friend!  We met just after I moved to San Francisco, early in 1968.  It was six months later, that I discovered we shared the same Birthday!  I was one year older.  That's what started my tradition of eating Mexican food on my birthday.  Paul was Mexican American, and he showed me the best Mexican restaurants among others.  We always went out and had Mexican on OUR birthday!  Paul was also an excellent cook.  We had dinner together more than a few nights a week, often sharing the cooking.  We did things together almost every day.  Whether it was going to Lands End or just hanging in the neighborhood.  Over the years we went our separate ways, but always kept in touch.  If I didn't call him, he would call me.  I was in Seattle when I found out Paul was in the hospital with AIDS.  I still get upset that I did not know in time, to come and see him.  Paul I will miss you for as long as I live!