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Gay Pioneer Lee Mentley dies- The gay activist facilitated creation of the Rainbow Flag

HRH Lee Mentley Your very own…, old, miserable, cranky, S.O.B…!



ACTUP/LA’s David Reid, longtime activist Lee Mentley, ACT UP’s Helene Schpak, at the Lesbians to watch out for: 90’s Queer LA Activism, art exhibit West Hollywood in June of 2017
(Photo by Karen Ocamb)

Gay pioneer Lee Mentley ended his often snarky emails with “HRH Lee Mentley Your very own…, old, miserable, cranky, S.O.B…!” The insightful self-reflection brought a smile to readers who knew the longtime gay movement pioneer as a lovable, astute and kind curmudgeon who participated in and facilitated the San Francisco art scene that created the iconic Rainbow Flag.  

Mentley, whose 2016 memoir is entitled “Princess of Castro Street,” died January 20 at his home in Sonora, California at age 72. According to August Bernadicou, who wrote a detailed obituary for his LGBTQ History Project, the vibrant activist died of congestive heart failure.

For many, Mentley, born June 2, 1948 and raised in East Los Angeles, is being remembered for his activism and service to the San Francisco gay community where he moved in 1972, and for facilitating the creation of the iconic Rainbow Flag.

“Once Upon A Time…there was a Gay Liberation Movement that arouse out of the Flower Power & Women’s Movement for Sexual Liberation in the 1960’s. Add Pot and LSD and we were off to the Haight Asbury, Sunset Boulevard & Greenwich Village,” Mentley wrote in an op-ed reflecting on Gay Freedom Day for this news editor. “The mid-1960’s was a time of great joy and sexual comradery. I grew up in East Los Angeles with a strange mixture of being called a ‘faggot’ at school during the day to having the same boys visit me at night for sweet sex play! Then I read in the Free Press there was a Gay Community Center where you could meet men who did not call you ‘fag’ and still wanted to have sex with you, including, of all things, kissing!”

That’s where Mentley met Gay Liberation Front/LA founders Morris Kight and Don Kilhefner and Mattachine Society founders Harry Hay and Jim Kepner. “Little did I understand then that I would know them my entire life and out-live most of them,” Mentley wrote. “It was Morris who encouraged me to be a Gay political activist,” introducing him to fellow University of California/Long Beach students Steven Berman and Martin Rice with whom he launched the first Gay Student Union on a California State University campus. “This led to someone nearly blowing up the Theater Department, including death threats, which forced my early graduation,” he wrote.

“So, I moved to San Francisco to do drag Shakespeare with Cockette Martin Worman. It was then I met Harvey Milk. I lived across the street from Harvey at 590 Castro, which was also known as the Hulah Palace where we founded the original Castro Street Fair and actively participated in the growth of the Gay Movement. It was an exciting time 2000 years in the making. Gay kids from around the globe came to be liberated and safe in The Castro, including a fair share of straight kids who just wanted to join in the fun,” Mentley wrote.

Lee Mentley outside San Francisco City Hall the day after the infamous White Night riots, May 22, 1979.
(Photo courtesy Daniel Nicoletta) 

At the Hulah Palace, Mentley nurtured local gay artists such as LGBT community photographer Dan Nicoletta. That led to Mentley being hired for the San Francisco Arts Commission’s Neighborhood Arts Program, becoming the city’s first openly gay employee.

“Lee was an early advocate for me as a budding photographer in 1975,” Nicoletta tells the LA Blade. “I was 20 years old when I hit Castro Street. I fancied myself a theatre photographer, so Lee and I hit it off instantly because of his deep roots to all things theatrical. Lee was a co-founder of a neighborhood art scene which held astrologically selected seasonal art salons. It was called The Hulah Palace and Lee invited me to exhibit work and document the thrilling three-day salon.  I found my community of counterculture freaks there and stayed involved with pretty much everything Lee was involved in throughout the ensuing years, as a photo documentarian but also as a student and friend. I will miss his vim and vigor.”

Painting by Jim Campbell of 330 Grove, courtesy Lee Mentley 

It was through the Gay Community Center at 330 Grove Street that he founded with other activists that Mentley truly found his historic calling. He opened the Top Floor Gallery where artists could work, showcase their work and share theories and stories. It was there where he facilitated the creation of the Rainbow Flag in 1978 as a project of the executive committee for the Pride Foundation.

“I can confidently write as an LGBTQ historian that Lee Mentley facilitated the rainbow flag, which represents LGBTQ people all around the world,” Bernadicou wrote in an email to the Bay Area Reporter, adding that “he was involved in the big picture organization, securing money, etc,” that enabled the Flag to be created and flown during Gay Freedom Day in San Francisco.  

The artists preferred collective respect and individual anonymity so while applauding sewer Gilbert Baker’s talent at branding and distributing the image and messaging of the iconic Rainbow Flag, Mentley and others were upset that 40 years later, the actual founder of the original flag, Lynn Segerblom or Faery Argyle, had been erased from the Rainbow Flag narrative. Mentley brought the erasure to the LA Blade’s attention, Segerblom wrote a description of her participation – and then all hell broke loose, with the keepers of Baker’s memory minimizing Segerblom’s participation.

The late poet Adrian Brooks was a longtime LGBTQ rights advocate. (Photo courtesy Brooks)

Neither Mentley nor his poet friend Adrian Brooks allowed that version to stand.

“In 1974, Lee had inspired an 18-year-old new arrival from Southern California: Lynn Segerblom or Faery Argyle Rainbow as she was widely known (that name being on her California driver’s license). A tie-dye artist, she’d been making clothing often embellished with rainbows, since 1971. Lee helped her integrate into the local scene where she flourished. In 1977, she rented a workspace at 330 Grove but lived above the Castro district with Gilbert Baker and James McNamara, longtime friends,” Brooks wrote in the LA Blade on March 20, 2020.

“In April 1978, a month after being in the show [“Angels of Light”], Lynn told me about her concept for eight-stripe rainbow flags as has been affirmed by some of the 30+ volunteers who worked on the project and who recognize her as originator of the design,” Brooks wrote. “In May, Lee and Paul Hardman (president of the Pride Foundation, with Lee on its executive committee there being no formal parade committee), approved the rainbow design Lynn submitted at a meeting certified by two others present on that day. When Paul and Lee asked for money to fund the project, Harvey Milk gave them $1,000 after which Lee and Lynn went shopping for materials.”

Segerblom’s studio “became ‘ground zero’ where fabric was dyed while Lee’s gallery space and the roof were used to dry great lengths of cotton; when hung from rafters, these became a splendid and lyrical installation,” Brooks wrote.

“Gilbert didn’t conceive or design the 1978 flags. His accomplishment lies in transforming what began as local parade decorations into a global icon. But the ubiquitous flags he popularized so brilliantly were his own six-stripe variants of Lynn’s original eight-stripe designs.”

As Brooks read his poems to a crowd of 400,000 in City Hall plaza on June 25, 1978, “high overhead, the splendid rainbow flags were billowing in a blue sky as the afternoon sunlight illumined their prismatic colors.” Those Rainbow Flags, produced by Harvey Milk, Lee Mently, Lynn Segerblom, Gilbert Baker, James McNamara “and many others who did the work” for the gathering were to be Harvey Milk’s last parade before his assassination. “Still, he saw the flags he helped midwife serving those he nurtured whole-heartedly, acting in concert with his walk-the-walk friend, Lee Mentley, Godfather of the Rainbow Flag.”

“I knew Lee since the first Castro St. Faire in 1975, I think,” Lynn Segerblom, aka Faerie Argyle Rainbow, tells the LA Blade. “Lee was a multi-talented artist. He was the reason I was able to rent a room at 330 Grove St. I had my dye studio there. He was the one who asked me if I’d like to be part of the 1978 decorations group- Parade decorations. When the decision was made to ‘let’s make them Rainbow Flags,’ Lee was there. When we got the money to buy the supplies to make these flags from scratch, Lee wrote the check to the vendors. He didn’t dye any fabric or sew any seams on the flags, but if he were not there, there wouldn’t have been any Rainbow Flags.”

“Lee was the embodiment of the ethos of the San Francisco gay liberation movement – anarchy, love, art and sex, steeped in an acute awareness of the arc of history and the very revolutionary nature of what we were doing,” friend Robert Croonquist tells the LA Blade. “He knew we were overthrowing several millennia of oppression and knew very well the reaction would be ferocious, as we are presently witnessing in the Trumpian glorification of toxic masculinity. Although his life and actions embodied his radical ethos, he well understood the dangers of authoritarianism and worked throughout his last four years to restore us to our democratic norms, as imperfect as they might be. His last words to his beloved friend Pamela Goodlow were, ‘We elected Warnock and Ossoff, Biden and Harris. My work is done. What’s left to do?’ And then he died.”   

Lee Mentley with Jim Campbell (photo by Keith Gemerek)

Last year, April 13, 2020, Lee Mentley wrote a remembrance of his friend Jim Campbell, “murdered by the Trumpvirus.” 

Here’s Lee’s last op-ed. In an email note to this editor, he wrote on June 28, 2020: “Karen…I have been wanting to make this statement for quite a while. The image is from the 1978 Gay Freedom Day March In San Francisco. I was on the committee and this image was the color guard for the march.”


By Lee Mentley 

Once Upon A Time…, there was a Gay Liberation Movement that arouse out of the Flower Power & Women’s Movement for Sexual Liberation in the 1960’s, add Pot and LSD and we were off to the Haight Asbury, Sunset Boulevard & Greenwich Village.

The mid-1960’s was a time of great joy and sexual comradery. I grew up in East Los Angeles with a strange mixture of being called a “faggot” at school during the day to having the same boys’ visit me at night for sweet sex play! Then I read in the Free Press there was a Gay Community Center where you could meet men who did not call you “fag” and still wanted to have sex with you, including, of all things, kissing!

This was where I met Morris Kight, Steve Berman, Don Kilhefner, Martin Rice, Harry Hay and Jim Kepner. Little did I understand then that I would know them my entire life and out-live most of them. It was Morris who encouraged me to be a Gay political activist and introduced me to Steven Berman and Martin Rice. We were students at the University of California at Long Beach and we began the process of establishing the first Gay Student Union at a California State University campus. This led to someone nearly blowing up the Theater Department, including death threats, which forced my early graduation. 

So, I moved to San Francisco to do drag Shakespeare with Cockette Martin Worman. It was then I met Harvey Milk.  I lived across the street from Harvey at 590 Castro, which was also known as the Hula Palace where we founded the original Castro Street Fair and actively participated in the growth of the Gay Movement. It was an exciting time 2000 years in the making. Gay kids from around the globe came to be liberated and safe in The Castro, including a fair share of straight kids who just wanted to join in the fun. 

The doors on Castro Street were open to all who wanted to be free of hateful traditional morals that forced children into proscribed roles that fed a capitalist system that was destroying the planet and our free will. By the time Anita Bryant attacked our burgeoning community, we were ready for the fight and marched in so many numbers we could not be ignored anymore.

What we weren’t ready for were greedy, not very gay, homosexuals with selfish political agendas who rushed in, dividing our community into an Alphabet Soup, capitalizing on what we had built and enslaving our efforts to be free. Within what seemed like minutes — our movement became about grants and selling the Rainbow Flags we created at The Pride Center’s Top Floor Gallery for free.

 The one letter I did not see hiding in plain view was “R” for Republican Gays who could not donate enough money to elect Ronald Reagan, Bush One and Two and who gave millions to Thug Trump. Not that it was just Republicans who grub for dollars — but it is Republicans who today are working to suppress the vote this November with the money you spent in their stores, on their cruises, and at their events. Isn’t it time for a can of Whoop Ass? 

There is nothing Gay about giving money to rightwing bigots who want to bring us back to the 1950’s, to lynchings and burning “faggots” for tax cuts. This lesson was learned by the Gay and Jewish communities in 1930’s Berlin. Their money and loyalty to Hitler did not save them from the Nazi death camps. 

So, who do we turn to — the organizations that remain silent to protect their grant dollars?  Why do we allow these wealthy parasites to restrict our social justice movement from their fashionable hotel towers or fracking fields in fly over states?  Isn’t it time to wake up and take back our movement? 

The PROM is OVER…! 

In 1978, we were told we were not allowed to call ourselves “Gay,” and I mean literally told to shut up and stay in the politically correct lane or be ostracized. It was no longer Gay Day or Gay Freedom Day or the Gay Liberation March, but something called PRIDE. Pride under an enforced Alphabet Soup starting with ‘GLB,’ then LGB, LGBT, LGBTQ, LGBTQI and who knows soon to be LGBTQIARSTUVXYZ. Where’s the F for “FAG?”   

Photo Credit: The Photo Archives of Karen Ocamb

I kept asking: Proud of what? The answer was to shut up, follow the rules, be politically correct or as they say, “PC,” or get out.  Before “PC,” Gay Day marchers came down the streets and anyone could join in. You didn’t ask for permission. You showed up, But after PC Alphabet Soup gained control, up went barriers between ‘people’ and ‘marchers.’ Up went bleachers for important people who had to pay and the marchers now in a “PC Zoo” had to obey. 

Up until this time, Gay Community Centers welcomed people who had been thrown into the streets by so-called “religious” parents. These kids could find a warm place to sleep, have something to eat and find a job. Today, if you enter a center, you have to be screened, sign in and have a specific appointment or otherwise get lost. 

No longer is the Gay Center a refuge. It is a money-making location for the politically connected, rainbow-selling, money-grubbing, and politically correct who seek the next government or corporate grant. They don’t give a shit about you.

Nowhere in PC World is there a demand for “FULL Equality.” No national PC organization works on any issue that does not comply with their grant masters’ wishes to keep you behind the white picket fence. Nowhere during Black Lives Matters protests have PC leaders stepped up to the microphone with their moldy bull horns and screamed: “No one is free until we are all free!”

There was a time when, at a moment’s notice, there would be 10,000 marching from The Castro to City Hall. No one would have called ahead! No one claimed they were our leader! Well, almost no one — not until later, after Harvey was murdered. Then there were books to write, movies to make and lots and lots of money. 

The Gay Liberation and Freedom Movement, like Black Lives Matters today, did not ask for permission. We showed up and marched. If that meant confrontation with the establishment, we took our lumps and continued to show up time and time again. 

Like Harvey Milk said: “Power Is Never Given to You! You Have to Take It!” You think Larry Kramer asked for permission to start “ACT UP? Who actually saved lives — ACT UP, GALA or HRC? 

New York is now vigilantly leading the way with a Reclaim Pride Movement “Queer Liberation March” that supports BLM. But we don’t need to reclaim Pride — we need to reclaim Gay Liberation. We are Gay, not letters in the alphabet with separate agendas. 

In San Francisco, Gay community activist Juanita Moore is taking Pride back to its protest roots and hosting a “People’s March & Rally – United To Fight” from Polk Street to City Hall promoting Gay solidarity for racial and social justice. In Los Angeles, there is a call to move the West Hollywood corporate parade to downtown as the Los Angeles Gay Day March. This way, all communities can participate, not just the mostly white moneyed people in WEHO that have a history of excluding people of color with a variety of dress codes, expensive admissions and 15 minute parking signs. I mean what truly Gay person can shop in 15 minutes? 

All over the world, we see separate marches, parades and events for different letters in the alphabet soup that have great energy and demands for their special letter.  But it won’t be until we are reunited as one community, the Gay Community, that we will have the power to demand Full Equality and throw the money changers out of our temple! 

Fuck Your Rules…But Wear A Damn Mask…!

Karen Ocamb is the former News editor of the Los Angeles Blade and a longtime chronicler of the lives of LGBTQ Californians

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Marking slavery’s end, a historic event now marks a Federal holiday

“The people of Texas are informed that, in accordance with a proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free”



Major General Gordon Granger, USA (Matthew Brady Collection, Library of Congress)

GALVESTON, Tx. – In the early summer of 1865, on a clear crisp June morning, the lead elements of the Federal Army of blue-coated soldiers of the 13th Army Corps occupied the island city of Galveston, Texas on Monday the 19th.

Led by Union Army Major General Gordon Granger, who had recently taken command of the Department of Texas, the 13th Corps was tasked with enforcement of the emancipation of slaves in the former Confederate state.

The bloody civil war had ended officially with the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia commanded by Robert E. Lee to Commander of Union forces, Lieutenant General Ulysses S. Grant, at Appomattox Courthouse, Virginia on April 9, 1865.

The warfare between the last elements of the Confederate and Union troops however, dragged on for another month or so culminating in the Battle of Palmito Ranch, which was fought on May 12 and 13, 1865. The fighting occurred on the banks of the Rio Grande east of Brownsville, Texas on the Texas-Mexico border some 400 miles Southwest of Galveston.

It took approximately another two weeks for Confederate Lieutenant General Simon B. Buckner to surrender his command of the Trans-Mississippi Department (which included Texas) to Union Major General Peter J. Osterhaus on May 26, 1865.

General Granger was then tasked with implementing the order to free enslaved African Americans.

Once Granger’s Federals had taken control of the port city, he and his command staff headed to Union Army Headquarters located at the Osterman Building, once located Strand Street and 22nd Street.

Osterman Building – Left Foreground, Picturesque Galveston, 1900, Galveston Historical Foundation

It was there that General Order No. 3 was first publicly read out loud to a gathering of now newly freed Black Americans and other citizens of the city. 

“The people of Texas are informed that, in accordance with a proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free. This involves an absolute equality of personal rights and rights of property between former masters and slaves, and the connection heretofore existing between them becomes that between employer and hired labor. The freedmen are advised to remain quietly at their present homes and work for wages. They are informed that they will not be allowed to collect at military posts and that they will not be supported in idleness either there or elsewhere.”

Sadly it would take nearly two years before all of the enslaved African Americans would actually be freed in Texas by white plantation owners and others who simply didn’t tell them or defied Federal authorities.

In 2014, the Texas Historical Commission placed a subject marker at the corner of  22nd and Strand, near the location of the Osterman Building, where General Granger and his men first read General Orders, No. 3.

State of Texas historic marker at the site of the first public reading of General Order 3. Photo courtesy of the Texas Historical Commission

While many Black Americans across the former Confederate States would celebrate their freedom granted by The Emancipation Proclamation, issued by President Abraham Lincoln on Sep. 22, 1862 during the height of the war, in annual celebrations still others yet would annually mark the date of passage of the 13th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution by Congress on January 31, 1865, which abolished slavery in the United States.

Yet on Galveston Island, the tradition of marking their first learning of The Emancipation Proclamation, issued by President Lincoln with General Granger’s General Orders, No. 3, was the benchmark for ongoing annual celebrations and as the years went by as the Black Americans from the Lone Star state migrated ever Northward, it would be that seminal moment that ultimately would lead to the creation of a federal holiday and recognition some 156 years later.

One observer also wryly pointed out that the June anniversary was seasonally tied to better weather than the other two dates and more conducive to celebrations and large gatherings, hence its popularity in being established as the federal holiday.

Information and photographs provided by the National Archives, the City Of Galveston, Galveston Historical Foundation, the Library of Congress, and State of Texas, Texas Historical Commission.

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50 years ago Atlanta’s nascent gay rights movement marched

“It was mostly about feeling good,” said Phil Lambert. “That we’re not a bunch of sick people. That we’re not the problem.”



Screenshot from Atlanta Journal-Constitution YouTube

ATLANTA, Ga. – This Sunday, exactly fifty years ago to the day on a bright Sunday morning, about a hundred brave gay and lesbian Atlantans from the Georgia Gay Liberation Front, unfurled a lavender colored banner made from a bedsheet with the intertwined symbols representing male + male, female + female with the a raised fist of defiance and the words ‘Gay Power’ emblazoned on it and they marched.

The group inched its way up Peachtree Street to a soundtrack of chants, kazoos and a tambourine.

Mindful that stepping off the sidewalks could get them arrested — the city of Atlanta had turned down their request for a permit and the police were closely watching for jay-walkers — the marchers stopped at every corner until they were given the crossing signal, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution reported.

Prior to the coronavirus pandemic, the average estimated crowds in attendance at Atlanta Pride is upwards of 300,000 plus. But at the time the Journal-Constitution noted, even in the city that had just birthed the civil rights movement and was home to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., LGBTQ rights was considered a radical issue that the Georgian liberal political establishment, including many Atlanta progressives, wanted to stay away from. At that time, gay sex was still illegal under state law, and the American Psychiatric Association characterized homosexuality as a mental illness.

For those GAGLF Atlantans who participated in that first pride march on June 27, 1971, the event was a turning point, a moment when, for the first time, they could publicly celebrate a part of themselves that society had long demanded they keep hidden.

“It was mostly about feeling good,” said Phil Lambert, a Vietnam veteran who was in attendance. “That we’re not a bunch of sick people. That we’re not the problem.”

Read the entire fascinating story: 50 years ago, Atlanta’s gay rights push took to street for first time

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LGBTQ rainbow flag was born in San Francisco, but its history is disputed

On that day in June 1978, it felt as if the rainbow had always been a symbol for the LGBTQ community, it just hadn’t revealed itself yet



New York City Pride 2019 (Photo by Andrew Nasonov)

By August Bernadicou (with additional text and research by Chris Coats) | NEW YORK – Many enduring symbols that establish an instant understanding and define a diverse community are intrinsically linked with controversy, confusion, and ill-informed backstories dictated by vested interests and those who told the story loudest. The LGBTQ rainbow flag is no different.

While it was the work of many, the people who deserve credit the most have been minimized if not erased. Gilbert Baker, the self-titled “Creator,” screamed the story and now has a powerful estate behind his legacy. Before his death in 2017, Baker established himself as the complete authority on the LGBTQ rainbow flag. It was his story which he lived and became.

While there are disputed accounts on the flag’s origins, one thing that is not disputed is that the LGBTQ rainbow flag was born in San Francisco and made for the Gay Freedom Day Parade on June 25, 1978. 

For all of human history, rainbows have mystified and inspired. A greeting of light and serenity after the darkness and chaos of a storm. They have symbolized hope, peace, and the mysteries of existence. For a moment, we can see the invisible structure, the “body” of light, made visible. A secret revealed, then hidden again.

Though it may seem like a modern phenomenon, rainbow flags have waved throughout history.  Their origin can be traced to at least the 15th Century. The German theologian, Thomas Müntzer, used a rainbow flag for his reformist preachings. In the 18th Century, the English-American revolutionary and author, Thomas Paine, advocated adopting the rainbow flag as a universal symbol for identifying neutral ships at sea.

Rainbow flags were flown by Buddhists in Sri Lanka in the late 19th Century as a unifying emblem of their faith. They also represent the Peruvian city of Cusco, are flown by Indians on January 31st to commemorate the passing of the spiritual leader Meher Baba, and since 1961, have represented members of international peace movements. 

Now, the rainbow flag has become the symbol for the LGBTQ community, a community of different colors, backgrounds, and orientations united together, bringing light and joy to the world. A forever symbol of where they started, where they have come, and where they need to go. When many LGBTQ people see a rainbow flag flowing in the wind, they know they are safe and free. 

Modern version of the Rainbow Pride flag designed by Daniel Quasar in 2018 to include LGBTQ people of color and the Trans community. (Image graphic via Them magazine.)

While the upper class and tech interests rule the city now, in the 1960s and 70s, San Francisco was a wonderland for low and no-income artists. The counterculture’s mecca. By the mid-1970s, the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood that had once been a psychedelic playground of hippie art, culture, and music had fallen into disarray. Hard, dangerous drugs like heroin had replaced mind-expanding psychedelics. Young queers and artists needed a new home, and they found it in the Castro.

Lee Mentley (1948-2020) arrived in San Francisco in 1972 and quickly fell in with the oddball artist and performers in the Castro neighborhood, donning flamboyant, gender-fucked clothes, performing avant-garde theater, and creating their own clubhouses. He was on the Pride Planning Committee in 1978 and ran the Top Floor Gallery on the top floor of 330 Grove, which served as an early Gay Center in San Francisco. 

Lynn Segerblom (Faerie Argyle Rainbow) was originally from the North Shore of Hawaii and moved to San Francisco where she attended art school at the Academy of Art. Her life changed when she found a new passion in tie-dye and rainbows in the early 1970s. Entrenched in the free-loving technicolor world of San Francisco, in 1976, Lynn legally changed her name to Faerie Argyle Rainbow. She joined the Angels of Light, a “free” performance art troupe where the members had to return to an alternative, hippie lifestyle and deny credit for their work. 

Lynn Segerblom by James McNamara, 1978

Shortly after the original rainbow flags were flown for the last time, both Lynn and Lee moved out of San Francisco. Lee moved to Hawaii and Lynn moved to Japan. When they returned, they were shocked to see how their contribution to history was becoming a universal symbol. They remain passionate about defending their legacies and giving a voice to the mute.


LEE MENTLEY: “One day in 1978, Lynn came to 330 Grove with a couple of her friends, James McNamara and Robert Guttman, and said we should make rainbow flags for Gay Day to brighten up San Francisco City Hall and Civic Center because it’s all gray and cold in June. We thought that it sounded like a great idea.”

To get over the first hurdle, money, the young artists went to Harvey Milk, the first openly gay elected official in the history of San Francisco, California, for help. 

LEE: “There was no actual funding for it. We contacted Harvey Milk and another supervisor, and they asked the city if we could get a little funding. They found some leftover funds from the previous year’s hotel tax, and we got $1,000.” 

LYNN SEGERBLOM: “I remember having a meeting where I presented the idea of making rainbow flags. I had some sketches. At that meeting, there was just a handful of us there, and I remember, and even my friend assured me, that Gilbert Baker was not at that meeting. I don’t know where he was, I didn’t keep track of him, but he was not at the meeting where I suggested rainbow flags. We decided, yes, rainbow flags sounded great.”

The committee approved the rainbow imagery and made the decision to make two massive 40’ x 60’ foot rainbow flags to be flown at the Civic Center along with 18 smaller rainbow flags designed by different, local artists, to line the reflecting pool putting rainbows into the grey sky.

For the two large flags, one would be an eight-color rainbow starting with pink and including turquoise and indigo in place of blue, and the other a re-envisioning of the American flag with rainbow stripes which became known as Faerie’s flag.


Gilbert Baker’s name on his memoir, Rainbow Warrior, it says “CREATOR OF THE RAINBOW FLAG,” leaving little debate that Gilbert claimed full ownership for the concept and design of the legendary symbol. He never denied Lynn or James MacNamara’s involvement in the flags’ construction and speaks briefly and fondly of them and their talents in that same book. 

LEE: “We didn’t need one person saving our ass, and it certainly wouldn’t have been Gilbert Baker. He was no Betsy Ross. He was a very good promoter, and I give him all the credit in the world for making the rainbow flag go international. He did a great service, and he was a very talented, creative man, but he could never have done all of the work by himself; no one could have.

Lynn Segerblom with volunteers readying the flag by James McNamara, 1978

We never considered ownership. There was never this big ownership debate until Gilbert started it. Because AIDS hit us so fast after this, most of our leadership either went into HIV activism or died.”

LYNN: “The story is that a white gay man did all of this by himself, but, in fact, that is not true at all. He just promoted it. For that, though, he should be given great love.”


Making the two original rainbow flags was no easy feat. With a limited budget and limited resources, the group had to improvise and figure it out as they went along. While Lynn had dabbled in flags before, a project of this scope and importance was far beyond her comfort zone.

LEE: “The community donated the sewing machines we used. We asked people at the Center if anyone would like to volunteer. All sorts of people from all over the country helped us with the flags, over 100 people, which, to me, is an amazing story. That’s where it came from. It came from regular artists who wanted to have fun and make something pretty for gay people.”

LYNN: “The Rainbows Flags were hand-dyed cotton and eight colors. I made two different types. The one with just the stripes and then the American flag one, which I designed myself. There was a group of us that made them, James McNamara, Gilbert Baker, and myself. Originally they were my designs. I was a dyer by trade, and I had a dying studio at the Gay Community Center at 330 Grove Street.”

LEE: “People would come and help as long as they could. Then, somebody else would come and help as long as they could. We opened up the second floor of 330 Grove to people who came to be in the Parade and march. People came in and made posters, banners and did art stuff.”

LYNN: “We made the flags on the roof because there was a drain up there. There was a wooden ladder that led up to the roof. The hot water had to be carried up to the roof because we didn’t have hot water up there. We heated it up on the stove in pots. We put the hot water in trash cans on the roof.”

LEE: “We had trash cans and two by fours, and we had to keep agitating the fabrics in the dye. Since they were in hot water, they had to be poked and agitated for hours.”  

LYNN: “We had to constantly move the fabric in the dye, so the dye penetrated the fibers that weren’t clamped tight. We had to make sure there would be blue, and it wouldn’t just be white on white or white with a very murky, pale blue.

After they were washed and dyed, they went through the washer and dryer. Then, we ironed them. If the fabric stays out too long, once you take it out of the water, if it sits on itself even for just a few minutes, it starts to make shapes.”


LEE: “Lynn’s flag, the new American flag, was a similar rainbow, but it had stars in the corner. I have photographs of that flag flying at gay events in San Francisco at City Hall and Oakland.” 

LYNN: “I always liked the American flag. I thought, oh, wouldn’t that be nice? I knew with some luck I could make it.” 

James McNamara, Lynn Segerblom, Faerie Rainbow Argyle, Lee Mentley, Gay Pride 1978, Orignal Rainbow Flag, Gilbert Baker, LGBTQ Flag, Gay Flag, Creator of the Gay Flag, 330 Grove,
Gilbert Baker, Lynn Segerblom, Robert Guttman and unknown by James McNamara, 1978

LEE: “I thought the one with the stars was more interesting because it symbolized a new flag for the United States.”

LYNN: “For my American flag, I decided to flip the order of the colors, so pink was at the bottom and purple was at the top in an eight-color spectrum. That was intentional. I wanted them to be different. 

​I made the stars with wood blocks and clamps. I got the white fabric and washed it, and folded it a different way. When I was making it, it looked like a big sandwich. The bread would be the woodblocks, and the fabric was in between. We immersed the whole flag in dye and swished it around. I wasn’t sure if it would come out right because it was the first time I did that fold. I was lucky. It worked.

I sewed lamé stars into one stripe with leftover stars from my Angels of Light costumes. On one side of the blue stripe, there was a star with silver lamé, and on the other side, there was a star with gold lamé. 

I got all these ideas because I worked with these mediums on a daily basis: paint, dye, fabric, and glitter.”

LEE: “We worked for weeks dying fabric, shrinking fabric, and sewing fabric.” 

LYNN: “We worked on them for seven weeks. I was worried that we weren’t going to finish on time. We worked hard and long hours. Towards the end, we decided we didn’t have time to go to the laundromat, so we started rinsing them on the roof and wringing them dry. We also ran out of quarters. We draped them off of the Top Floor Gallery’s rafters, and they drip-dried. They looked great. They were beautiful.”

Until that day, the pink triangle, used by the Nazis to label homosexuals in their genocidal campaign, was the most commonly used symbol for the LGBTQ movement, a symbol in solidarity with our fallen ancestors. But the triangle came from a place of trauma, it was a reminder of the storm while the rainbow was the hope that came after. The promise of brighter days ahead.

On that day in June 1978, it felt as if the rainbow had always been a symbol for the LGBTQ community, it just hadn’t revealed itself yet.

LEE: “We went out, flew the flags, and blew everybody’s fucking minds. People were blown away. The flags were so beautiful. They were waving warriors. The biggest ones were 40’ by 60’ feet. The Parade marched through the flags to get to Civic Center. We instantly proclaimed that this was our symbol. It wasn’t planned. It was organic.”

LYNN: “It was just what I wanted: a touch of magic, a touch of glitter, and a little bit of Angels of Light.”

LEE: “We weren’t creating this huge symbol. We were decorating Civic Center. We weren’t thinking of marketing our entire futures. It was an art project.”

LYNN: “We looked at the rainbow flags as a work of art, and we wanted them to be beautiful and unique. After the Gay Parade, the flags were a big hit. People loved them. Everybody loved them.”


In the pre-technology world, people and property could just disappear. There were no surveillance cameras.  Lynn didn’t even have a phone.

Even though no one could have known the flag would become an eternal symbol for a worldwide community, it was clear even then that they were a piece of history to be coveted.

In his memoir, Baker hypothesizes that the Rainbow American flag was stolen shortly after it was hung up on the front of the Gay Community Center for Gay Freedom Day in 1979. He suggests it might have been a construction crew working on the new symphony across the street and in a homophobic act, stole the flag and buried it in cement.

LEE: “Later in 1979 or 1980, you can find it somewhere in the minutes for a Pride Foundation meeting, Gilbert came to us and asked to borrow the two large flags, and we agreed. We never saw them again.”

LYNN: “I went to work one day at 330 Grove, and Gilbert came in and said that the two 40’ by 60’ flags had been stolen.” 

Images published in the San Francisco Chronicle, videos of the march, and other widely distributed photographs only add to the mystery. They show both the classic rainbow flag of eight stripes and the American revision flying at the Civic Center on June 24, 1979 and not at the Gay Community Center.

As for the original eight-stripe flag, there are even fewer answers. In his memoir, Baker says that while they were taking down the flags from Civic Center, he was hit on the head on knocked out. “When I came to on the muddy ground,” he says “I saw people all around me hitting each other and screaming obscenities. They were fighting over the rainbow flags, pulling on them like a game of tug-of-war, tearing them.” 

LYNN: “It would have taken more than one person to carry the flags. It took three people to carry one folded-up flag for the Parade, and we needed a van. They weighed a lot, and 330 Grove did not have an elevator. Whoever stole them had help—one person could not do it on their own.”


LYNN: “Before the rainbow flag missing, Gilbert came to one of my workshops. He wanted to watch me dying fabric all day and see how I did everything. 

I was like, oh yeah, I’ll show you, come in.

I said, here, put some gloves on and do it with me. 

He was like, oh, no, no, I don’t want to get my hands dirty.

​He was only trying to figure out how I did the dying.”


LEE: “Gilbert went to these places like MoMa and told them these outrageous stories about how he made the rainbow flag all by himself. He said this about the flag he donated. When you look at it, you can tell that it was bought at a craft fair. It flat out wasn’t one of our flags. It was polyester.”

​LYNN: “It was polyester, it wasn’t the same size, and it wasn’t hand-dyed. My flags were different. The rainbow flag at MoMa was a beautiful flag inside a frame, but it wasn’t an original, not from 1978, not even a piece from 1978. I was hoping, oh, my God, maybe this is a piece of it.”

LEE: “It wasn’t even the original colors. MoMa said they were original flags, but they weren’t. It was a commercially produced rainbow flag with a primary color rainbow. The plaque cited Gilbert donating it as an original flag.” 

Lee Mentley, Lynn Segerblom and Camille O’Grady, 2017


LYNN: “I read online that Gilbert Baker said he named me “Faerie Argyle Rainbow,” a complete lie. Bethany the Princess of Argyle named me. I chose the name Rainbow because I was known as a rainbow artist.”

​LEE: “Even Lynn’s driver’s license said her name was “Faerie Argyle Rainbow.””

LYNN: “In 1976, I filled out a form at the DMV, and my name became Faerie Argyle Rainbow. Back then, they didn’t ask you for a birth certificate. The employee just said, “This is your name now,” and gave me a driver’s license that said Faerie Argyle Rainbow. 

​It all sounds crazy now, but back then, it wasn’t.”


LEE: “I had my arguments and fights with Gilbert Baker because he claims he came up with the rainbow flag. If you go through all of his different interviews, you see that his story changes over and over and over again. He even said Harvey Milk came to him and asked him to create a symbol for the movement. No—I read that, and no such thing happened.” 

LYNN: “Just look at his interviews. His takes on what the colors in the rainbow flag mean are all in his head. The rainbow represents everyone, no matter what gender or race you are; that’s how I looked at it. Rainbows are in nature and beautiful. People love them, and I love them. I knew they would be great color healing.

Gilbert assigning meaning to each color is ridiculous. I think anyone could make up what each color means. If I wanted to, I could do the same. It wasn’t what I was thinking. I was thinking that rainbows encompass everybody, the whole group, unity.”

LEE: “I have tried to convince people that the rainbow flags were made with tax-payer dollars. We made them as a non-profit. 

Not even Gilbert owns them. I have always thought that anyone who sells anything rainbow should give a portion of the profits to homeless gay youth. We need to take care of our own kind because no one does. The whole concept of taking care of gay people has disappeared.” 

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is Chris-Coats-600x600.jpg

August Bernadicou is a 27-year-old gay historian and the President of the LGBTQ History Project Inc. Chris Coats is an editor and producer.

Together, they produce the QueerCore Podcast and will shortly be releasing an episode that is the definitive story on the rainbow flag featuring Lee Mentley, Lynn Segerblom, and Adrian Brooks. 

August Bernadicou is presenting a Pride event in NYC this year that all folks are cordially invited to attend- its virtual;

Here is the link for the event:

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