A DAY OF JOY, ANGER, LEARNING AND SOLIDARITY

It was a day to join in.

Richard Meader, of Georgetown, sat under a shade tree on the Mall, feeding bites of his Popsicle to his 2-year-old daughter while his wife inspected the AIDS quilt. Meader, 39, called himself an aging hippie and said he never misses a civil rights march.

"We're at all the rallies," he said. "We were at the pro-choice rally, and we were at this same march in '87. It's just nice to show solidarity." -- Jon Jeter

A Song in Their Hearts, on Their Lips

It was a day to sing about, which the Windy City Gay Men's Chorus was pleased to do, whenever and wherever.

They sang Friday night on their chartered flight from Chicago. They sang Saturday at Lisner Auditorium. They marched 75 strong yesterday with the Illinois contingent, a matched set in purple polo shirts, and broke into song every few steps. It was exhilarating, chorus organizer Brian Reed said, to sing for so many of their own.

"It makes you feel like all this is for something," said Reed, 28. "It's really unbelievable." -- Robert Pierre

Whoops and Hollers at Dupont Circle

It was a day to holler about, and the hollering began well before the march did.

As darkness fell Saturday at Dupont Circle -- Ground Zero for gay men and lesbians during the weekend -- periodic whoops went up from people-watchers who had gathered, three deep, at the Q Street entrance to the Metro station.

Whenever two men descended the escalator on the same step, the crowd chanted, "Men, kiss! Men, kiss!" Many couples obliged, some with flamboyant gusto. Then a good-looking young man got on by himself and a new chant started up: "Boy, take it off! Boy, take it off!"

He left it on. -- Dennis Drabelle

For Visiting Students, a Lesson

It was a day to learn from.

"There's nothing like this in Ohio," said Ashley Spear, 14, who was visiting her nation's capital yesterday from McConnellville Junior High School.

"If there was, we'd kill it," a classmate chimed in.

Their teacher, Todd Spence, said the students had no idea they would show up in the middle of a gay rights march, and it provoked "a lot of discussion -- since they're in junior high, most of it negative." Between museums and hot-dog stands, Spence was busy explaining the First Amendment.

"It's good for them. It's been quite an education," he said. -- Cindy Loose

Seen but Not Heard on the Mall

It was a day to be quiet but be there.

San Francisco Supervisor Roberta Achtenberg, one of the nation's best-known lesbians, sat on the grass at the Mall with her longtime lover, a California judge, and said, "No comment."

President Clinton has nominated her to be an assistant secretary of Housing and Urban Development, which would make her the highest-ranking openly gay federal official in the nation's history. The women said they would not comment on the march or anything else until after Achtenberg's confirmation hearings, which begin Thursday.

But they were there. -- Joyce Murdoch

Some Preaching and Counter-Preaching

It was a day to preach about. Rubin Israel came all the way from Los Angeles to do that.

Israel stood on Pennsylvania Avenue balancing a loudspeaker and a six-foot sign covered with biblical passages. "Go back into the closet and lock the door!" he shouted. "No sodomites in the military!" he shouted.

"Too late, you missed me, yo-yo," retorted Bill Young, 57, a veteran from Alexandria. Young, a gay man who served in the Navy from 1954 to 1960 and now owns a travel agency, said he would spend the day responding to Israel: "He irritated me in '87, and I'm here to irritate him today."

David Felix, 48, probably irritated the preacher to no end. Felix walked quietly up to Israel and stood next to him with a small orange sign. "God is gay," it said. -- Linda Wheeler

For Two Friends, a Trip to Cherish

It was one more day to be grateful for.

Colin Morris and Burnis Thomas, of Chicago, thought Washington was the last place they would be yesterday. They have AIDS, they are broke and they thought they would have to watch the march on television.

Three weeks ago, the two men -- once lovers, still best friends -- got a call from march organizers. Would they like "scholarships" for airfare and a hotel room? With 25 other scholarship recipients, Morris marched yesterday, his cane on one side and Thomas on the other.

"We have friends who have died," Thomas said. "For some of the ones who couldn't come, we said we are here for you." -- Robert O'Harrow Jr.

Standing Out, Turning Heads

It was a day for fashion statements.

In the Capitol Hilton lobby, a man headed for the door wearing a sparkly pink evening dress and a large blond wig.

A 70-year-old woman from Overland Park, Kan., in town for the annual convention of the Daughters of the American Revolution, took that in. "My!" she said. "Isn't it a little early in the day for an outfit like that?"

Someone explained that the gentleman was probably part of the march. "He?" she said, going to the window for a better look.

The woman wasn't eager to have her name in the newspaper, in deference to her DAR colleagues, but she said she wished she could have seen the march and the AIDS quilt. "I saw on television that this will be quite an event," she said. "I'd like to go and be part of history." -- Linda Wheeler

A Hairdresser Who's Hard to Peg

It was a day for labels and defying labels.

Michael, a 6-foot-1 Washington hairdresser, paraded down Pennsylvania Avenue dressed as Peg "Married With Children" Bundy -- black pedal-pushers, a wide cinch belt and a push-up bra under a long-sleeved camouflage T-shirt with the shoulders cut out.

A network TV crew stopped him. "May we film you?" they asked.

Michael: Oh yes.

Crew: Are you a drag queen?

Michael: Oh no.

Crew: Are you a transvestite?

Michael: No!

Crew: Are you a transgender?

Michael: I don't even know what that means.

Crew: Oh, okay. Thank you.

The crew walked away.

"Did you believe that?" Michael asked. -- Linda Wheeler

'We Just Want to Look Regular'

It was a day to blend in.

Leon Burg, of Berkeley, Calif., marched with Affirmation, a support group for gay Mormons. He said the contingent discussed the importance of not looking outrageous.

"We just want to look regular. What a regular Mormon looks like, I don't know," he said with a grin. -- Joyce Murdoch

For Two Texas Tourists, Outrage

It was a day to be outraged.

A couple from Texas picked the wrong day for tourism. "I think it's disgusting how some people justify their immorality," the husband said. "The right to be immoral is not one of our fundamental rights." -- Fern Shen

'It Hasn't Hampered What We're Doing'

It was a day to be tolerant.

"We're heterosexuals," said Robert Johnson, hugging his wife, Geraldine. They were in town with friends from a Las Vegas senior citizens' center, and they knew their trip would coincide with the march.

"It was either that or coming here when the schoolchildren were on Easter vacation," Geraldine Johnson said. "It hasn't hampered what we're doing. I figure it's their life. I just wasn't raised like that."

But she said the marchers seemed like nice people -- and unlike the hippies, she added, they didn't seem to want to destroy things. -- Cindy Loose

A Homeless Worker 'Trying to Get Paid'

It was one more day and one more way to make a living.

Dallas Ricks said he didn't much care about the march. "I'm just out here in the sun on a nice day trying to get paid," he said.

Ricks is a neat, burly, homeless man who lives at the Community for Creative Non-Violence in the District. He was among more than 700 homeless people who were hired by a pro-gays-in-the-military coalition to gather signatures at Metro stations and on the Mall.

From Thursday through march day, the Campaign for Military Service paid $50 for eight hours of canvassing, $75 for 12 hours. Ricks spent all four days at the McPherson Square Metro station on 14th Street NW.

"I need the money like anybody else," he said. "Times aren't just tough for gay people." -- Vincent Young

Some Gay Rights Incorrectness

It was a day for confusion, not all of it logistical.

A marcher walked down 15th Street NW with a sign saying, "Gay People Don't Increase School Taxes." That was too much for two women who confronted him.

"We have children too, you jerk," one said. "We pay taxes too, you jerk." -- Fern Shen

'Those Things Are Worth $15'

It was a day to be practical, in spite of yourself.

When a police officer climbed a statue in Lafayette Square to take down a purple lesbian-rights flag, the crowd taunted him.

"That's just his job," one Chicago woman said to another.

"Nuts to that," said her friend, who ran off to see if the officer would give her the flag. "Those things are worth $15." -- Fern Shen

Window Shopping for 'Husbands'

It was a day of walking personal ads.

Seven shirtless exuberant men caused a sensation by sticking their heads out of a second-floor window of the Hotel Washington and displaying a sign that said "We Need Husbands." The crowd went wild.

"What's your room number?" one man shouted back.

A group of marchers from San Francisco must have empathized. They began a chant, "What do we want?"

"HUSBANDS!"

"When do we want them?"

"NOW!" -- Fern Shen

A Little Giddiness at March's End

It was a day for giddiness.

At exactly 5 p.m., five hours after the march began, the thousands of marchers from Illinois had covered the scant quarter-mile from the Washington Monument to the White House. They could have broken into a serious chant about gay rights or AIDS research.

Instead, they broke into a scene from the Wizard of Oz -- the part where Dorothy, the Scarecrow and the Tin Man follow the Yellow Brick Road into the forest.

"The bears, the bulls, the queers -- oh my!," they said over and over. "The bears, the bulls, the queers -- oh my!"

The crowd in front of the White House cracked up. -- Robert O'Harrow Jr.

Respite From Being 'So Isolated'

It was a day for belonging, no matter how much effort it took.

John Harmond, 19, stuck out his thumb in Lithia Springs, Ga., Friday night and reached the Mall at 2 p.m. yesterday, in time for most of the festivities. Along the way he hitched rides with nine people, and as he emerged from the Smithsonian Metro station onto the Mall, his eyes welled with tears.

"I just had to be here," he said. "Some of us are so isolated from the rest of the gay community that something like this is monumental . . . . I see a whole lot more younger people than I expected."

As he got closer to the stage, the tears began to stream down his face. "This is just so wild . . . seeing so many people who are like me," he said.

But already, Harmond was thinking about the trip home. In black grease pencil, he wrote "GEORGIA" on his left arm, hoping to find someone going his way.

He has to be at work on Tuesday. -- Robert Pierre

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