It was 6:30 in the morning after Jackie Yordan and I had spent all night dancing at the Ice Palace in Cherry Grove on Fire Island, high on mescaline (I think). Jackie, who befriended me during my 3 visits that summer, was a leader of the A-list New York gays. As I was closeted and inactive in the city, I was unaware of his status and grateful for the time he spent with me. Before we separated, I ran into the house to grab my camera and took three iconic photos of him. We were on separate paths in NYC, so I lost contact with him and was chagrined to learn around 1990 that he had died from AIDS.