Leather History

Copyright Viola Johnson.  All rights reserved.  This text may not be reproduced
or copied without written permission of the author.

An open letter to My Tribe

A few days ago I was making an Archives pitch to a small group of leatherfolk. One of the members of the audience, who had heard me speak about the Leather Archives before, asked me why I was so passionate about preserving leather history. I stopped my train of thought and told them the story that I am about to relate to you now.

From the early 80's to the early 90's I served a woman and her husband who had an incredible collection of leather history. It was, however, something that they didn't think about. From their point of view the books magazines, newsletters and drawings were things saved because "we might re-read them one day".

These treasures were my bed time reading. Safely tucked away in one closet of the garage converted to slave quarters (my bedroom) was a treasure trove of leather knowledge. When my work day was finished I put myself to sleep reading leather bound first editions of Von Sacher Masoch's Venus in Furs or original copies of the Justice Weekly from Canada. In the bottom of this magic closet were the printers originals from Bizarre Magazine and sketches by Stanton. At my fingertips was more leather history than hundreds in this great tribe would ever see, and it was mine for the reading. I was in heaven.

There were a few problems with my paradise, however,. One was improper storage, (brown paper bags thrown into a corner were not good reciprocals for 40 year old newsprint) and the other was termites. There had often been jokes about the garage falling down around my ears. I laughed about it because it didn't mean much to me at the time. One night I had chosen Psychopathia Sexualis as my bedtime companion. I sat down on the floor with this irreplaceable first edition and eagerly opened the chronicle in my hand.

The book fell apart as I lifted the leather bound cover. What should have been three hundred pages of knowledge was a pile of termite dust and half destroyed pages falling through my fingers to the floor. I sat there in stunned shock. Then I started to cry. I cried for what seemed like an hour, holding part of the cover and bits of the pages to my chest. I cried like a two year old that had just lost its favorite toy. In hind sight it must have looked comical, an overweight naked, cuffed black woman with a pile of dust and partial pages between her legs.

When I finally stopped crying over the loss of the book I went back to the closet and checked some of the other volumes. Many of these old treasures had also been food for bugs. Absolutely dismayed. I got on the phone with an old friend who listened to me rant and vent uncontrollable for G-d only knows how long.

From that point on I made it my business to save every magazine that I subscribed to. I filed every club newsletter that came to my mate and me. I went back through our personal Archives filing old invitations, diary entries, s/m newspapers. Anything that I could get my hands on. You see, it wasn't much, but I wanted my leather children to have what little pieces of our history I could preserve for them. I wanted them to be able to see a pin from L.I.L. 2, old Inferno programs, the first edition of Sandmutopia Guardian or the precious first copies of Dungeon Master. I owed them those glimpses into their past.

I guess I should tell you that the person who listened to me rave that night was Gayle Rubin. She, Chuck Renslow,Judy Tallwing and Tony DeBlase went on to become the core group of what is now known as The Leather Archives and Museum. There is now a place that guarantees the protection of our past. The Archives offers the proper shelter for those invaluable personal and club histories, first editions tribal newspapers and works of art.

Even if you don't think those club notes are important send them. Even if you think someone else probably donated (money or whatever) and we don't need your small contribution, send it anyway. Yes, that one dollar contribution is important. (Jill Carter proved that.) That old run pin is important. Those old club photos are important. That Betty Paige pin up picture is important. Your club colors and history are important. I guess what I'm asking, make that begging for, is that our proud history never again end up as landfill or termite food.

Please!