OF LOVE, DEATH AND HOPE

AT THE HUMAN RIGHTS CAMPAIGN FUND DINNER, FOCUSING ON AIDS

Rep. Barney Frank got a standing ovation after Rep. Steny Hoyer declared passionately that "Jesus lifted up that stone and said, 'Those of us who did not make mistakes can cast the first stone'!" The 1,300 members, staff and guests at the sixth annual black-tie dinner of the Human Rights Campaign Fund, the nation's largest gay and lesbian lobbying outfit, applauded and cheered.

Hoyer (D-Md.), chairman of the House Democratic Caucus, said in his keynote speech Saturday night at the Sheraton Washington that the House ethics committee "may decide" Frank (D-Mass.) made a mistake in procuring a male prostitute whom he later hired as a personal aide, but that he is nevertheless "a mainstream politician" and "my friend."

Frank then got up and attacked homophobia as "one of the most virulent prejudices in America today."

The evening was sad, funny and touching by turns. "Dr. Ruth" Westheimer was there ("I just auctioned off dinner with myself -- $650!" for AIDS research); singer Dionne Warwick, who has been designated the nation's ambassador of health for her efforts in fighting the epidemic, received an award ("it's quite something to be called 'humanitarian' "); and so did the National Cancer Institute's Robert Gallo, the man who isolated the AIDS virus and spearheads America's scientific fight against the disease ("yeah, I'm optimistic; it's a solvable problem").

Irreverent humorist Fran Lebowitz, who was the emcee, managed something close to the Impossible Joke by observing that if AIDS had surfaced in 1900 mankind would have been annihilated and some "apparently would have thought this was a bad thing." It worked; people laughed and hissed. Warwick to Lebowitz: "You're baaaad."

However you tried to deal with it, the specter of AIDS slouched about the room like an unwelcome and unavoidable guest. Some at the dinner regretted they were missing a candlelight vigil on the Ellipse, where the 13-ton Names Project International AIDS Memorial Quilt lay unfurled across 14 acres during the weekend.

When entertainer Peter Allen sang a song dedicated to AIDS victim Gregory Connell, the youth's mother, Mary Jane Edwards, was among those weeping openly. "Love doesn't need a reason," sang Allen. "Love is never a crime/ Love is all we have for now/ What we don't have is time."

Edwards, a fountainhead of human tenderness, not only nursed her son until his terrible death but also founded the Los Angeles-based Mothers of AIDS Patients, devoting her life to easing the anguish of others. "The men call us and say, 'When do I tell my parents, and how do I do it?' " she said. "We help them with how to cope with it and accept it, and how to take care of their child. So many of these parents come to L.A. to be with their child. They're from Middle America, they don't know what this is all about, they need help. When their child dies, they go back.

"Often they just can't deal with it. I remember one PWA {person with AIDS} , Roger. He was dying and I was holding him in my arms and he said, 'I just want to see my mama just one more time,' and I said, 'Well I'm here and I love you.' And he said, 'I know, but I just want to see my mama one more time.' So I called her and she was married to some redneck stepfather, and she said, 'I just can't deal with it,' and I said, 'Honey, he's got to deal with it every day and he needs you.' But she didn't come."

Mary Jane Edwards said she cries a lot, and prays a lot.

Gallo said in a cocktail reception before the dinner that "this year and next year we're going to see significant advances" in AIDS research and that within seven years "there will be unique forms of therapy... . We can't solve it tomorrow or next week. It's an approachable problem, but it will take time and effort. At least in theory it's a solvable problem."

Westheimer, whose books "Sex and Morality" and "Dr. Ruth's Guide to Good Sex" were displayed at the silent-auction table before the dinner, called the battle against AIDS "the most important cause of the '80s." Dr. Ruth, a woman of bubbling kinetic charm who seems to stand just slightly over two feet in height, remained for a while by the table encouraging people to sign up for the auction "even if you just put down $10."

"I'd give $500 for good sex," joked dinner co-chairman Robin Weir, the hairstylist.

"Safe sex!" corrected Dr. Ruth.

"I think out of the people in this hall," she continued in an aside to a reporter, "there's no question that most have listened to what I have to say when I talk about safer sex. The only people I can't reach are the drug users. I don't know how to."

Downstairs, Frank chided her: "The only thing you have to watch out for in Washington is that people don't mistake you for Carl Albert." Westheimer smiled but seemed uncertain about the identity of the late Democratic speaker of the House from Oklahoma, whose height was 5 feet 4 inches.

Also attending the dinner were actor Martin Sheen, who was in town for the Housing Now! March and wasn't wearing a tux; Tim McFeeley, executive director of the Human Rights Campaign Fund; Robert Keith Gray, chairman of Hill & Knowlton Public Affairs Worldwide; D.C. Council Chairman and mayoral candidate David A. Clarke; former campaign fund executive director Victor J. Basile; and Hilary Rosen, co-chairman of the campaign fund's board of directors.

The overwhelming majority of those at the dinner were male. A campaign fund spokesman declined to identify guests at the dinner, emphasizing that attendance was not to be taken as an indication of sexual orientation, and stating that some people at the dinner "might be worried" about having their names in the newspaper.

Most weren't. Basile said in his speech that gays and lesbians are developing enough "political muscle" to think about pressuring Congress to pass a civil rights bill in their favor "rather than just fending off bigoted assaults by hateful politicians." Frank said he was impressed with the "fervor" of those attending the dinner.

"They have," he said, "a real sense of a political agenda -- meaning fair treatment. It's pretty simple."

Articles appear as they were originally printed in The Washington Post and may not include subsequent corrections.