Reynolds Price: Duke’s own queer icon

Is “queer” an ungracious term for this elegant and supremely gracious man, Duke’s own Reynolds Price? “Queer” is Reynolds’ word; in “Ardent Spirits,” published scarcely a year before his death last week, Reynolds was adamant that he was queer, if quietly so. The New York Times said the book felt “like a boisterous coming-out party.”

Let me share my take on that quietly queer aspect of Reynolds. From a small rural community in North Carolina, he went to Duke, but his sexual awakening was not in full bloom until he was at Oxford. Why not earlier—why not at Duke in his late teens when the hormones are in full rage?

The answer is that in America in the 1950s homosexuality was illegal—let me repeat for younger readers: If you were homosexual, you were a criminal. The American Psychiatric Association deemed homosexuality a psychosis. A gay (my term) man was both an outlaw and insane. If he wanted to avoid prison and/or the asylum, he stayed in the closet. Neither church nor family was a refuge.

A half-century later, a cold wind still chills the LGBT community at Duke. When I became president of the Duke Alumni Association and a Trustee, I felt it repeatedly. Most of my time in those capacities was wonderful but evidence of lingering bigotry was abundant—and Reynolds saw it too.

It was an honor to be “at the table,” as a Trustee. (Speaking of the 1950s, “Angels in America” recalls Roy Cohn’s central purpose in denying his sexuality—queers were weak and not at the table. Being McCarthy’s henchman and killing the Rosenbergs was his price of admission.) So, yes, it was easier for me—I sat at the Duke high table in the first decade of the 21st century and was openly gay. It was certainly novel for Duke-—later than at other elite universities as always. My partner (of more than three decades) was the first same-sex person ever to attend the Trustees’ “spouse” program. And he loved it. Everyone was friendly and gracious to him. I opined that hospitality was a high art form here and, while much was genuine, that he’d never even feel the daggers, much less see them.

Of my shared experiences with Reynolds, then, one in particular speaks to Duke’s still evolving culture. He and I were on a Board committee that chooses honorary degree recipients. It is a prestigious committee, fully staffed to research the candidates. After all, what says more about a University than those whom it publicly honors? A prominent Anglican theologian was nominated. The controversy over the new gay Episcopal bishop was raging at that time. What was the nominee’s position on this issue? He was non-supportive of women or gay priests. I felt Duke should honor someone making history, not holding it back, say the gay bishop or the female head of the American church. I said so. But not everyone agreed.

Reynolds was more circumspect in his questioning, befitting his long and deep immersion in Duke culture and politics. After several weeks of heated debate, Reynolds and I killed the nomination. But we should not have had to fight so hard for that outcome. I wasn’t invited to rejoin the committee the following year—ah, those daggers again.

Thus was Reynolds a quiet queer. He made no secret of his sexuality but he didn’t highlight it. He grew up at a Duke that would not have tolerated it and that even now prefers not asking and not telling. Reynolds learned to navigate this environment and was formed by it.

Former Trustee and Former President of the Duke Alumni Association