Friday: Wilder Fundraiser

This is a reposted story. The much loved "Wilder" is having another fundraiser to help him get by after his forthcoming (second) surgery. You can donate here.

I was sitting in Wilder’s chair at his home, getting a haircut and listening to him excitedly ramble on about one of many “fabulous” new developments in his life, when a nearby window facing the street fell from its lifted position and slammed shut.

Interupting his train of thought, Wilder said "excuse me," walked to the window, opened an urn, grabbed a fistful of dried ashes, and wordlessly threw them into the wind from the perch of his 7th floor apartment. He then quickly walked back to the chair to attend to my hair, and seamlessly resumed conversation in the spot where he left it.

“Wilder,” I interupted, “why did you just throw dirt out of your window?”

“Oh, that was my husband. Every time I count my chickens he lets me know that I need to reign myself in. He just needed to be recognized.”

“You threw your husband OUT OF THE WINDOW!?!”

“Well,” he said, dismissively, “ he wanted me to creamate him and throw his ashes around at his favorite places, so I did that, and then I threw them at a few more places, and I STILL had so much left of him. I can’t seem to get RID of him.”

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I first met Don Wilder two years ago. A friend of mine referred him to me as someone "a little different" who gave an amazing haircut at an unbelievably reasonable price. That day I arrived at his apartment, knocked on the door, and was formally introduced when he dramatically swung the door open, flailed his arms like a magician, and proclaimed with theatrical awe: “Welcome, to the WILDER STUDIO!” I’ve been welcomed as such ever since.

Don Wilder, a one-man glittering vortex of pulsating fabulousness, was raised in rural Washington State at a time when few in that place were ready for his garish style and outspoken natue. Trained as a dancer, he quickly left the Pacific Northwest to spend much of his life touring the world, performing and producing elaborate musicals before eventually creating a chain of hair salons with Alan Wilder, his beloved partner of more than 20 years. From the style of his dress to the creativity of his mind to the sharpness of his tongue, he is undoubtedly, in his own words, “beat back feirce.”

Now in his 60s, Wilder is still a man with the energy of a bursting sun and the optimism of Tony Robbins on a triple-espresso. I can’t fully express the vast and exciting experience of Wilder’s life without embarking on a novel, but one quickly recieves a sample of it when visiting his studio for the purposes of a haircut. I don’t have much hair, but I’ve never visited Wilder without spending at least two hours in his presence. A parade of men (and some women) shuffles in and out of his studio constantly, most for a cut, color, make-up job, or photo session, and others just to socialize. Wilder has a “boy book” filled with photos of the various men he transforms, and frequently plays match maker between clients spotted in one of his books, thus social visits are often merely a pretext for meeting potential friends. The music pumps, the wine flows, and conversation sparks in the best tradition of beauty parlors—only this one caters to gay men. The work of beauty is never done and the party never stops, thus you can visit his studio even on a Saturday night at 4:00 a.m. and find the entire crew of “town” go-go boys in his living room, and the great gay ringmaster twirling his baton in the center of them all. He would no doubt still be dancing on the box with them if he could manage it.

I admit, I’m not exactly the person you would expect to find at the Wilder Studio. Wilder is exuberantly old school in his tastes—a living relic from the gay 70s with a fearless sexual perspective, a religion based purely on aesthetics, and a boundaries be damned mentality that never lets the party stop. His reality is so different from my own that I sometimes leave his studio and ask myself, “did that just happen? On a Monday at 6:00 p.m.?” Yet, despite our cultural divide, he inspires me. The young men who frequent his salon revere him, and while he does nothing to self-consciously label himself a role model, he is exactly that. He makes men beautiful (at a cost they can afford), and in a million words lifts their self-esteem to the level of gods and princes, shares endless stories of gay history both personal and universal, provides sage guidance down the yellow brick road, and gives every ounce of himself to make their world, and consequently his own, a more fabulous place to live.

When I think of Wilder, I can’t help but wonder where our culture would be if so many like him were not lost during the apocalypse of the early 80s. In this city, there are many men who can tell you of how they buried friends every weekend for months at a time. Decimated in their ranks, many of those who survived that generation left our city, or simply checked out. There are now so few like Wilder, who give us a glimpse of what may have been if the victories of equality we now claim were carried on the shoulders of an army of wise and battle-tested elders. Instead, gay men of the next generation move toward an unoppressed identity as pioneers, with only ghosts to guide us. Our current scenario makes the creativity, passion, and wisdom of cultural treasures like Wilder that much more important.

Unfortunately, Wilder’s health has taken a turn. He recently had invasive surgery that has left him unable to work. He has been in recovery for weeks, but will need more surgery in three months that will further keep him out of commission. His savings have dwindled, and for the first time in Wilder’s life, he is in a position where instead of being a consumate giver, he must for reasons beyond his will become the recipient of the grace of others. His many friends try to check up on him and bring him food, but his needs are becoming greater and government assistance will take more time to acquire, therefore a fundraiser will take place Friday at BeBar.

Wilder says "Yes friends, the owners of BeBar have been kind enough to host another Wilder party fundraiser to help me pay rent during my recovery from surgery. There will be a show featuring go-go boys and drag queens galore, with drink specials all night. The $5 cover starts at 10:00 pm, and all proceeds go to the Wilder Fund. I'll be there to greet you all and thank you for your love and support. This will give you another chance to see the fabulous BeBar, and mingle with each other."

While TNG is not typically used for fundraising purposes, four of the writers of this site get their hair cut by Wilder, and have come to know and appreciate him as a good friend. Your help is greatly appreciated.