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When the troupe of tracksuited drag kings launched into a thumping Marky Mark cover, this much grew clear: It was going to be one hell of a party. Ice cubes clinked in cocktails as men and women in matching gowns grooved to the good vibrations. Mayoral candidate Bevan Dufty threw his hands in the air like he just didn't care and danced like nobody was watching. It was last year's San Francisco Pride "40 and Fabulous" gala. And everything was, well, fabulous.

And then the bill arrived.

Pride’s interim executive director, Brendan Behan, says obituaries for the organization are premature.
Jean-Philippe Dobrin
Pride’s interim executive director, Brendan Behan, says obituaries for the organization are premature.
Mikayla Connell counts her years 
atop Pride’s board as one of her life’s great failures.
Jean-Philippe Dobrin
Mikayla Connell counts her years atop Pride’s board as one of her life’s great failures.
City supervisors’ main concern with Pride is that it’s not generating enough money for the LGBT community.
Calibree Photography
City supervisors’ main concern with Pride is that it’s not generating enough money for the LGBT community.
Apparently, this is what a well-run nonprofit looks like.
Gil Riego Jr.
Apparently, this is what a well-run nonprofit looks like.

A birthday is reason enough for a party, but Pride had additional motivation: It needed to bring in the big bucks. Former Pride board members claim they'd been assured the gala's hundreds of attendees would provide tens of thousands of much-needed dollars. But Pride managed to lose funds on its fundraiser. Throwing spectacular, well-attended events — and losing money prodigiously — has become a recurring Pride motif. By the end of last year, the nonprofit that runs San Francisco's massive yearly gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender parade and festival was deeply broke.

Worse yet, it didn't even know it was broke — while comatose at the fiscal wheel, its board and staff didn't realize they'd veered sharply into the red until the organization outspent its revenue by nearly 25 percent. Pride spent at levels far exceeding the prior year. The organization then blithely doubled its paid staff, right as revenue slowed to a trickle.

In the months since, Pride has also experienced a leadership exodus befitting a Central American junta. Its dysfunctional board has burned through four presidents in eight months. Virtually none of the organization's full-time employees returned after being furloughed. With Pride weekend looming on June 25 and 26, newly installed interim executive director Brendan Behan has been forced to assume the role of a fiscal battlefield medic. He's charged with stopping Pride's bleeding — with a tourniquet if needed — and pulling off this year's event, despite being $160,000 in debt.

No one SF Weekly spoke with said this year's parade and festival wouldn't happen. The permits have all been granted; the actual staging of the event is handled by veteran, professional contractors; and — come what may — some 1 million revelers will flock downtown on the last weekend in June, fully expecting to eat, drink, and be gay (or at least gay-friendly).

But after the main stage is dismantled and the last eventgoer heads home to Duluth, Peoria, or the Outer Sunset, the world-famous festival may change drastically. Both of San Francisco's openly gay supervisors have stated that Pride must be placed under new management — whether it likes it or not. "Pride is an organization that is no longer viable," David Campos says. "We have tried to be helpful. We've given them the benefit of the doubt. But you do reach a point where you have to fish or cut bait."

Adds Scott Wiener, "We're seeing an organization that has really atrophied. ... This is a good opportunity for us to take Pride to the next step and align it with a stronger organization." Both supes noted that government intervention could be necessary, as Pride belongs to no organization or individual, but to the community. Pride's attorney, however, notes that "the community" hasn't trademarked the phrase "SF Pride."

Yet this debate — along with notions of "governance" or "cost recovery" — means little to the throngs that attend San Francisco's free yearly event. For them, regardless of who's running the show, Pride offers an opportunity to openly and unabashedly live their lives the way they see fit. Or, less altruistically, to have a killer weekend. Either way, they're coming — and so is their money. From humble origins, Pride has grown into a multimillion-dollar cash cow for San Francisco businesses — the organization's in-house surveys calculate it brings $80 million to $100 million into the city. In 2006, the Convention & Visitors Bureau honored Pride with its annual Silver Cable Car award for contributions to the city's "visitor industry" (fellow winners include Fisherman's Wharf, Willie Mays, and, yes, sourdough bread).

But Pride doesn't just bring money in — it also doles it out. The festival has given more than $1.7 million since 1997, and serves as a vital payday for area nonprofits benefiting from the event's philanthropic largess. Put bluntly, there's too much money in Pride for it to cease; it really is too big to fail, even if the organization putting it on does. But what the festival will look like in years to come — and what defines "success" — is as clear as a pint of Guinness.


In 1978 — the same year Harvey Milk paraded down the street wearing a floral necklace and a mile-wide grin — Gilbert Baker asked for some money. He got it.

The artist was awarded $1,000 from the parade committee of what was then called Gay Freedom Day, and acquired spectacular quantities of multicolored cotton fabric. Working with teams of volunteers at the Gay Community Center at 330 Grove St. (don't look for it, it's not there anymore) Baker crafted two 30-by-60-foot rainbow flags, creating what is now a worldwide icon. Asked whether the first flags are still around, he laughs. They weren't built to last. They're long gone. So, too, are the smaller and more homespun Gay Freedom Day celebrations, when tens of thousands of attendees might end the day with a picnic — or a "gay-in" — at the park.

Pride is now attended by millions, and funded via hefty sponsorships from mainstream corporations. Virtually every elected official — the treasurer! the public defender! — rolls down the street in gorgeous automobiles. Revelers take in concerts from the Backstreet Boys or Lady Gaga and wander amid more than two dozen gay-themed pavilions while sipping on ballpark-priced beers or margaritas. Milk's time feels like ages ago — because it was. Accordingly, the situation that last year revealed Pride's deep dysfunction would not have been conceivable in the era when Baker's flags were first marched through San Francisco.

Alcohol and money — or the lack of either — have triggered conflicts since the dawn of civilization. And Pride is not exempt. Last year, a dispute arose between Pride and dozens of the nonprofits that provide manpower for the event's beverage booths and earn a cut of hundreds of thousands of dollars. Pride eventually acknowledged it underpaid the nonprofits and pledged to reimburse them nearly $50,000 in sales revenue. This conclusion wasn't reached, however, until weeks of contentious public back-and-forth between indignant nonprofits and sanctimonious Pride officials splashed across the pages of the Bay Area Reporter, prompting elected officials to intervene. The "beverage payment scandal thing," as former Pride board chair Mikayla Connell puts it, eventually led to Pride allowing the city controller's office to subject it to a "fiscal and governance assessment."

For anyone who cared about the well-being of Pride, reading the results of that December analysis felt a bit like wandering into the doctor's office with a sore throat and being given a diagnosis that includes the word "metastasized." This wasn't simply an issue of stiffing community partners on beer money. The controller's painfully concise report revealed that the only thing Pride was doing efficiently was bringing itself to the brink of disaster. To wit:

• Pride finished fiscal 2010 down $380,000, forcing it to liquidate the $155,000 reserve it had spent years building. Pride increased spending right as revenue dried up — it poured $204,500 more into personnel alone than it had the prior year, when it finished in the black.

• Pride increased spending during lean times because its oblivious board simply didn't monitor its finances. Board members did not notice that Pride's profit and loss statements see-sawed wildly between positives and negatives, hitting $335,000 in the red by September.

• Pride's board, incredibly, ratified an unbalanced budget that would put it $345,500 into debt. It subsequently passed a balanced budget of around $1.8 million — but neglected to stick to it, and ended up even deeper in the red.

The essence of the report is forehead-smackingly simple. Its authors, Catherine Spaulding and Nikhila Pai, say that Pride erred in neglecting its finances, realizing only at the end of the year that a massive deficit had been incurred, wiping out the reserves and forcing the furloughing of the staff. Rather, the organization should have closely monitored its dollars and made corrections as needed. "It's pretty standard," Spaulding says. The idea of running a business like a business "is nothing we came up with."

An inability to adhere to so basic a financial model cuts to the heart of what's wrong with Pride's inner workings. Most established nonprofits tend to have "governance boards" — overseers who set policy, raise funds, and make sure the money is there to pay for everything. Pride's, however, does none of those things. It is run by a self-styled "activist board" Pai describes as eager to get its "boots on the ground." But Pride has millions of boots on the ground. It needs more eyes on the budget. Shifting to a "governance board," the controller's report states, must be one of Pride's priorities.

It's also something Pride's board apparently doesn't care to do. Several burned-out former board chairs describe "almost no interest" from their colleagues in addressing many of the issues revealed in the report. This hastened a number of departures. "You cannot run the organization like it was 40 years ago," a frustrated Alex Randolph says. A former Dufty aide, he joined Pride's board in January, was elevated to cochair in March, and quit in April — an abrupt move his former colleagues in City Hall read as a clear sign of institutional sclerosis.

While the controller's analysis is easy to comprehend, for many at Pride, it is not so easy to take to heart. An organization that has, astoundingly, nearly made a celebration of gay pride untenable — in San Francisco — may not be eager to make difficult, introspective decisions. "It's no failure on the part of an organization to admit you are in decline. It's like admitting you are not well and going to see a doctor," says Teddy Witherington, Pride's executive director from 1997 to 2005. "But if that doesn't happen, you'll continue to see this downward decline to the point it becomes irreversible. And everyone is blinking and saying, 'I don't know how we got into this situation.'"

Asked whether Pride has reached the point of no return, Witherington takes a deep breath. "It's getting pretty close."


For a long while, even those who should have known better equated the overall health of Pride with the quality of the events it produced. But Pride's eponymous festival is executed by veteran contract workers — Audrey Joseph has overseen the main stage since 1984; event manager Joe Wagenhofer and parade coordinator Marsha Levine each has more than a decade of experience. Handling the actual logistics of a massive event requires a level of competent professionalism that is not ubiquitous throughout the organization. It takes a lot to nearly break a venerated San Francisco institution like Pride — but, in recent years, the organization seems to have been trying it out. In 2009, Pride's complacent board tapped Amy André, who had no prior experience in event management, to serve as executive director. She was soon overwhelmed; the board set her adrift; no one minded the store; and all the while, nonprofits nationwide were buffeted by an economic crisis.

If Pride's board isn't monitoring finances, fundraising, or providing governance, what exactly is it doing? A number of former board members said their primary responsibility was to "represent the community." For an organization with roots in the gay liberation movement that has morphed into a massive, corporate-sponsored fiesta, this is not a misplaced concern — someone's gotta keep it real. But in Pride's case, this led to the deification of diversity and a fervent drive to include and cater to every imaginable delineation of the community, save one — people who can do math.

"When they put the board together, the priorities are really about diversity — are there enough people of color? Is every single community represented?" says Cecilia Chung, a former board chair and member from 1998 to 2005. "To professionalize the board is not one of the priorities. Looking for specific skill sets around financial literacy and the ability to read budgets — those might not be some of the things they consider." Adds Nikki Calma, a 10-year board member who resigned in frustration as cochair in March — she cited health concerns — "The board plays a big role in bringing in diversity. But also an aspect I think was overlooked is, you've got to run an organization here. You want to make sure you're in compliance with all the different rules and regulations and make sure you don't go into the red."

In recent years, it seems, no one was doing this. The aforementioned unbalanced budget is a stark example of mismanagement at multiple levels. André told the board that, rather than budgeting properly, Pride could just raise more funds, or tap its reserves. And the board bought it. Planning, ahead of time, to drain the reserves is deeply problematic. And to base even a balanced budget on aggressive fundraising goals is risky. But to do so with an unbalanced budget? "That's absolutely irresponsible," longtime nonprofit consultant Ken Goldstein says. "These are bad economic times, and even organizations that do good planning have been caught short. Clearly, when you don't plan at all and don't have a balanced budget to start with, you're not going to make up for it by luck."

In recent years, however, former board members Calma, Connell, and Joshua Hardwick admit the board had grown entirely passive when it came to Pride's finances. They say they accepted as gospel the numbers delivered by prior executive director Lindsey Jones, and continued to do so with André. "We were told we were fine," Calma recalls. And no one saw fit to delve further into the spreadsheets to back that up. In good times, and with an able executive like Jones, the board could get away with this level of fiscal absenteeism. Last year it was lethal.

Even on the best of days, however, it'd be hard to describe Pride's board as a well-oiled machine. The organization, to its credit, stocks itself with representatives of every last disparate corner of the LGBT community. It then insists on board unanimity in decisionmaking. Like the United Nations Security Council, one thumbs-down is enough to kill a proposal. Pride's consensus model can lead to months-long, contentious debates — even if no decision is made. The board spent so long debating a proper reaction to the passage of Proposition 8, recall past members, that other groups had already staged protests or taken the lead on the issue and Pride was passed by. Pride's consensus model empowers its most reactionary and recalcitrant members. Controversial proposals — such as imposing term limits on the board or addressing the controller's concerns — are essentially rendered nonstarters.

André resigned in October, just a year into her tenure. She did not return messages, but did describe her brief, tumultuous ride as "a tremendous learning experience" to the Chronicle. Connell — who oversaw a board that neglected both its finances and its fledgling executive — is less euphemistic. "I fucked up," she says. "I could put some of the blame on the economy and some on Amy André. But, no doubt about it: I fucked up. That's my legacy."


Just when things couldn't get worse for Pride — they didn't. When Randolph, along with board members Belinda Ryan and Jamie Fountain, all quit over a tumultuous late April weekend, we found out what it takes to forge "consensus" — existential crisis. The depleted board, over the course of three days, hired former deputy director Brendan Behan to be the interim executive director through the end of the year (he'll oversee a pared-down staff of three, including himself, and earn $65,000 for at least eight months' work). "Brendan's coming in is the best news I've heard in a year," former longtime board chair Joey Cain says.

Behan, a Pride staffer between 2006 and 2009, is a familiar face for event sponsors. "Most of them are actually very happy to know we're ready to talk with them honestly," he says. "The vast majority are coming back." Far from the absentee fiscal oversight that was the recent calling card of Pride, Behan will be scouring the finances obsessively — and, he promises, posting updates on Pride's blog. Businessman Bill Hemminger — who unapologetically says he intends to "run Pride like a business" — came aboard last month as treasurer. Also joining up was Lord Martine, a marketing professional who works in the liquor industry and ought to be able to help land his share of sponsorships. On paper, you couldn't ask for better pedigrees for incoming leaders.

In the long run, however, it's asking a lot of these newcomers to resurrect an organization that has ground up so many well-meaning (and fiscally literate) individuals before them. Pride "is at a point where it needs a massive restructuring that [not all] the board members who are left are in favor of doing," departed board member Hardwick says. Consensus can be a bitch.

While Pride grapples with a system that lends itself to a glacial pace and empowers its most fractious members, another major city festival has created a remarkably efficient organizational structure. When ambling down Folsom Street and presented with the odd spanking, flogging, or perhaps even a gentleman ejaculating out of a second-story window onto the crowd below, your first thought probably isn't, "Now there's a well-run nonprofit." But it should be. Folsom Street Events is run tighter than a size-L pair of chaps on a XXL derriere. One intriguing indicator of the esteem in which the city holds Folsom is that the Department of the Environment tapped the leather festival to pen the official city best practices guide on large-event recycling. It's safe to say this is an "only in San Francisco" circumstance.

Folsom does not feature an "activist board," but is instead a "working board." That is, its members actually plan out and undertake every year's events — which include the Folsom Street and Up Your Alley fairs — and do not hire paid contractors as Pride does. Rather than drawing from the activist community, the Folsom board features IT workers, techies, nurses, lawyers, teachers, and nonprofit professionals. Not only are the board members able to do math, the system they operate in doesn't allow the numbers to multiply out of control. Each member oversees a certain aspect of the festival — recycling, security, volunteer coordination, etc. — and so must regularly comb through line-item budgets. What's more, the whole board goes through the budget, item by item, and discrepancies must be explained to the group by the board member overseeing that area. This provides "face-to-face accountability," in the words of president Jacob Richards.

Folsom also boasts stability and an orderliness Pride can only wish for. That's largely because of the ingenious system of "board associates." These are, essentially, junior board members. Last year, for example, event security was planned by two board members and one associate; recycling was handled by one board member and two associates. A year as an associate is a prerequisite for board membership — and serves as an efficient screening process and training program. As board members leave or are termed out, the organization promotes from within, anointing people who have already proven their competence.

"Generally, things happen like clockwork around here," Folsom executive director Demetri Moshoyannis says. "You have to create the infrastructure to operate successfully every year. But you also need the people to execute that vision." His efficient system — and the low overhead costs associated with a nearly-all-volunteer organization — has turned Folsom into a leather-clad moneymaking monster. Last year it donated $326,000 to other nonprofits, as compared with Pride's $132,000 disbursement. Over the last five years, Folsom has given between $301,000 and $350,000 to charity. Pride's donations in recent years ranged between $180,000 and $220,000. Folsom attracts up to 400,000 people — around a third of Pride's foot traffic — and operates on a little more than half Pride's budget.

Money generated for the community is not the ideal way to evaluate an event's worth — but it is something government officials can understand. And they do notice. "Folsom is a very well-run event and the foundation gives away a lot of money," Wiener says. "I think the more well-run organizations like that are generating investments into the community, the better off we're going to be."


When Supervisors Wiener and Campos propose wresting Pride away from its overseers or folding it into another organization, they're careful to note that the transition "must be a smooth one." Good luck with that. Any such talk is superficial at this point, as evidenced by the fact that the supes didn't even know whether the term "San Francisco Pride" is trademarked. The folks at Pride did.

In fact, the San Francisco Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender Pride Celebration Committee, Inc., holds a number of trademarks, including "San Francisco Pride," "SF Pride,"and "Pride Celebration." Brooke Oliver, Pride's outside counsel, said an event called, say, Pride San Francisco would be "too similar." If the staff at Pride is reticent to give up the ball, Wiener and Campos' hypothetical organization may have a difficult time finding a name for future festivals. "It's an interesting suggestion of theirs," says Oliver of the supervisors. "But they're bound by the law just as anybody else is."

So, it turns out you can fight City Hall. But municipal government is not without resources of its own. Both supervisors noted that it is within the realm of possibility that the permits for the Pride parade and festival could simply be granted to someone new. This is not unprecedented — in the late 1990s, the mayor's office, displeased with the group that had traditionally run the annual Juneteenth celebration, ensured the permits went to a group of young African-American professionals called the Blacklist. Pride also receives $58,400 from the city's Grants for the Arts program. If another group applied for that money, director Kary Schulman says she and her staff would have to evaluate who was best able to carry out the event. Dueling applications are not unheard of — she notes that this happened with Juneteenth and for this year's Martin Luther King Jr. commemorative celebration. In both instances, the rival groups opted to work together.

Gazing, realistically, across the spectrum of San Francisco LGBT nonprofits, it's hard to think of an organization ready to step in for Pride at a moment's notice. While the LGBT Center has been mentioned — and executive director Rebecca Rolfe notes that board chairs Calma and Randolph both spoke with her tentatively about some manner of merger — the center is hardly a picture of fiscal robustness. In fact, last year it required a $157,000 city loan to make its mortgage payments, but city officials insisted this was not a bailout.

Behan, meanwhile, is left in the not entirely unreasonable position of stating that he deserves a chance to dig Pride out of its hole before politicians start tossing dirt onto the casket. Pride, he notes, has whittled $65,000 off its debt since the beginning of the year. What's more, he adds, it faced a deficit in 1997 every bit as dire as the current one — and no one was calling for someone else to take over.

In '97, however, Pride was just beginning to distribute money to smaller nonprofits through its community partner program. These days, those nonprofits aren't just thankful for the cash — they expect it. "I think it's a good thing, but it's become the driving thing," former board chair Cain says of the payments. "It gets weird." In fact, it's Pride's ability to generate money — but not enough money — that has the supervisors most frustrated. Wiener acknowledges that Pride's woeful organizational structure and fiscal illiteracy were undetectable to its million-plus revelers. "The impact on the community is that the more well-run [Pride] is, the more money it's going to generate — which then goes back into the community," he says. Pushing for someone else to run the event "is more about maximizing opportunities."


To be certain, Gilbert Baker did not create the rainbow flag and march down the street to "maximize opportunities" for nonprofits. But for those nonprofits, Pride represents a windfall — smaller organizations can bank a quarter or more of their yearly revenue in one day. Curtis Moore, the executive director of Bay Area Young Positives, says that the thousands of dollars his group gets from Pride buy dinners and counseling for newly diagnosed HIV-positive children and young adults. "It's the cornerstone of our agency," he says. "It's really important to us to be a beneficiary of Pride."

A number of the nonprofits affected by the "beverage payment scandal thing," incidentally, tell SF Weekly they don't buy Pride's claim it was all a misunderstanding. They figure they were deliberately shortchanged when money grew tight. Pride cut a pile of $100 checks as good-faith payments, but the nonprofits are all still owed thousands. Yet the ones contacted for this story are coming back. The potential payday is too good to pass up.

When it comes to money, Behan pledges that Pridegoers this year, as in years past, won't be charged admission. But he's in no position to make any promises about next year or the year after that. If his organization falters, community members worry Pride's sheer moneymaking ability will lead to a for-profit organization being installed and charging revelers steep entry prices, as some other cities do. "If the people running Pride can't pull out of this tailspin, I think that will happen," former board chair Connell laments. "It'd be a real tragedy if Pride became a queer concert fest. It'd no longer be a community event, just a moneymaker. Maybe the city would be fine with that. Obviously it's not fine for the community."

What we do know is this: Come June 25, Pride is going to happen. The theme this year is "In Pride We Trust." And the irony of that is lost on no one.

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16 comments
Si Se Puede Deportar
Si Se Puede Deportar

Hilarious if it weren't for the fact that the taxpayers will be ponying up to keep the inept and corrupt "organization" going "for the community". Perhaps public floggings of prominent public figures could be auctioned off to raise funds? After all SF is known for out in the open BDSM.

Thom Lynch
Thom Lynch

All of this is so sad and at one time unavoidable. Many people met with the board before they hired Amy and suggested a major overall of the board was required and that the membership structure should be revisited. Spending had to be reduced, having 26 stages to place everyone is ludicrous. This was widely known by non-profit exports who knew the LGBT groups in town and their problems too. But pride stood out as one of the worst and didn't listen to anyone until it just too late.

Dp1965nj
Dp1965nj

HA HA! In Pride We Trust

Jward
Jward

i dunno. i have little faith, and there's more to be done than one woman/man can do alone. merging with another organization = get a clean slate. if this organization tried to do more than give a short parade and flaunt corporate sponsors, cocks and boobs, then maybe i'd be more enthusiastic. where is the contribution to humanitarian causes? what about us gay families with kids? what about poz people? sure, let's party and have a parade. but let's also do some GOOD for the community rather than just wreak havoc.

Sanfranguns
Sanfranguns

OK, so Marc has obviously never been to a pride celebration. Anyone with a real comment?

Sanfranguns
Sanfranguns

Can we please stop calling this an Economy issue? Do you know that people have given MORE money since the country's fiscal crisis started. I work for a non-profit and yeah, its maybe harder to find money - but there's still money to be had. Pride's mis-management and derelict board is what caused all this. Nothing more

Marc
Marc

San Franciscans, especially LGBTQ ones, don't deserve this celebration. You've done nothing to be prideful of for at least the past seven years. It's become a reason to drink and drug and nothing more and it is quite clear you don't have a clue how to bring in money for anything except personal coffers. And don't even get me started on sponsorship by companies such as Clear Channel. Shame on you.

dariamilan
dariamilan

what the article fails to include is that Amy Andre did have financial training in the MBA for Berkeley that she got after the Point Foundation paid for it. Ms. Andre is excellent at taking money from others but seems woefully lacking in paying it forward even when she is getting a paycheck to do just that. The fact that board members are able to take responsibility but she just brushes it off as a "learning experience" is truly sad. She withheld info from the board and the public and has never taken responsibility for it. All after getting her MBA paid for with the promise to serve her community.

thixotropic
thixotropic

My first impulse was "Government money?!? No way in hell!" But the city does get tax revenue from it, and Pride has the benefit, in lean times, of reliably putting of plenty of money in the hands of local merchants. A million people with an above average income spending it is worth 160K in debt.

But fiscal and organisational changes are paramount. Those of the current crew responsible should be held accountable, and competent people must be engaged to replace them.

garrett
garrett

We are going thur a bad time folks, things are shutting down, stores are closing and people are losing homes. Non-profits are having to cut back, less money nowadays. If Folsom is doing well change the model to them. As for getting public money, Why.

MissMimsey
MissMimsey

Lord hep me Jesus.

David Campos says you have to fish or cut bait.

The dam ting MUST be a total mess.

MPetrelis
MPetrelis

kudos to joe eskenazi for a comprehensive, fair and balanced look at the mess known as SF Pride. he did a fabulous job of giving some of the tortured history of the board and most recent executive director, and also acknowledging the extensive reporting of the bay area reporter.

i have one big question after reading joe's piece, and i say this as someone who avoids the pride parade and festival at civic center: what is the gay political point of the damn parade and party on the last sunday of june?

____
____

Pride comes before a fall.

Maria
Maria

Wow. Excellent report (though a dubious title).

What I find especially frustrating is that in the relatively close-knit core of gay people who've lived in the city for decades and know all the players and have a nose for trouble, this narrative has been known for years.

We all winced with every new pronouncement emanating from the Pride org about an ever more edge-case focus on politics and buzz-words and ever dwindling accountability and financial health. Its been going on for years.

In this city, large non-profits are enabled to operate without accountability, to spend tax dollars with out any meaningful tracking of outcomes vs. promises, and in the end we all lose -- except of course the non-profit executives who pocket fat salaries.

Marc
Marc

Really? I'm curious as to what you base your assumption on?

You're quite wrong by the way. I've been a volunteer for SF Pride even but please enlighten me as to why you make that statement.

Sanfranguns
Sanfranguns

If all you've seen at a pride celebration are people getting drunk and high then you've either not been there or you're an idiot. I was being kind

 
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