Forget San Francisco

Kendrick, Idaho: Gay Mecca

By Joan Opyr, 6-11-06

Kendrick, Idaho has a population of 369 people, comprising 153 households and 104 families, or so says the entry in Wikipedia. Not long ago, Kendrick was the focus of an excellent documentary on the Logo Channel called Bachelor Farmer, the story of two out gay men living openly and freely in this small, rural, Idaho town. It was an inspirational film, and it made me proud (once again) to live in Northern Idaho, where our unofficial motto is Libertas Quirkas: Free to be Quirky.

This morning, months after I posted an article about Bachelor Farmer to New West, I received an email comment from a Mr. Brett Long: I must never again mention Kendrick in my "drivel." My first reaction to this was simple. Kendrick, Kendrick, Kendrick! Then, I got a little bit tricky. Gay Kendrick, Kendrick gay, homosexual Kendrick, lesbian Kendrick, Kendrick gay lesbian homosexual agenda fairy butch dyke queer whoop-dee-doo Kendrick. A valid, reasonable, and mature reaction, I'm sure you'll agree. Still, when I stopped hopping on one foot and hollering like RuPaul on crystal meth, it struck me: Kendrick deserves better than Brett Long, but it also deserves better than my 20-minute hyper-gay Northern Idaho dance remix. Kendrick is a nice town. Architectural beauty is not its strong suit -- the old car up on blocks seems to be a staple in lawn ornamentation -- and yet, Kendrick has charm. I think so every time I race through it on my way down to Lapwai to stock up on illegal fireworks.

[Apropos of nothing, my favorite Lapwai fireworks stand is called Three Fingers. Say no more.]

Apart from the cars on blocks, what in Kendrick might be of interest to the average gay, lesbian, bisexual and or transgendered tourist? Not that I'm quite ready to dismiss the old cars thing. There are a few interesting makes and models on display in this small Northern Idaho town -- not just Chevys and Fords but the occasional vintage Jaguar or Rolls Royce. I find myself wondering especially how the latter got there. The Rolls Royce engine is completely assembled by hand, not by robots on an assembly line. According to several websites, six out of ten of all the Rolls Royces ever built are still roadworthy. What year is the Kendrick Rolls Royce? Could the workers in the Crewe, England plant who lovingly and painstakingly assembled it ever have imagined that one day their beautiful Silver Phantom would wind up parked in Ass End, Idaho, next to a pick-up truck with a six-inch lift kit and a cartoon in the rear window of a boy pissing on the Ford Motor Company logo? There's something very Idaho and very gay about this image; something simultaneously Wild West and full of pathos. Seeing that Rolls Royce down there was kind of like spotting Quentin Crisp at the Slurp and Burp. Somehow, he fit.

I spent yesterday up at Spokane Pride, and it was lovely. I prefer Spokane Pride to the Seattle or Portland events because it's seems more of a genuine reflection of the GLBT community. Spokane Pride is not just for the lovely gym queens and the lipstick lesbians; it's for everyone. All shapes, all sizes, and all kinds have a high old . . . no, a gay old time. Patricia Nell Warren was the Pride Parade's Grand Marshall, and she gave the keynote address. Later, I understand that she went with some of the Pride organizers to see Margaret Cho perform at the Northern Quest Casino. I had a great time, I met some great people -- I missed Margaret Cho, but I'll catch her on the flip side -- and I came home to Idaho at about 9pm. I was happy to be home.

I love Northern Idaho. I think everyone should come here -- come here, visit, and then go the hell back home. Brett Long tells me never to mention Kendrick again in my gay, gay, gay drivel? I say to Brett Long, Kendrick is gay. Moscow is gay. Lewiston, Genesee, Coeur d'Alene, Tensed, Plummer, and Lapwai are gay. Wherever gay people live and love, those places are as queer as Dick's hat band. You don't like it? Move.

But move where? Ain't no sunshine where you're going, Brett. Why? Because to escape gay America, you'll have to dig a deep hole somewhere much more remote than Kendrick, Idaho -- perhaps, say, the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. Once the hole is to your satisfaction, climb in, cover yourself with a rock and some lichen, and then . . . what? You can't get a satellite dish. You might catch a rerun of Bachelor Farmer. You can't listen to music; we gay people sing. You can't read a book because we also write. What in the world are you to do, Mr. Long? We are everywhere. Oh, my stars and garters! You're trapped! Trapped like a rat! Aw, heck. Better to just stay where you are and get used to us. We're certainly used to you.

Welcome to gay Kendrick, Mr. Long. And you know what? I hear they're pretty happy in Juliaetta, too.

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