Jerry Nord was a member of the Atons of Minneapolis for many years and an Emeritus member for life. In this five-part interview, recorded for the Atons Oral History Project, he talks about coming out, finding the leather community, running the club’s runs and fundraisers, and the friends he lost.
Editor’s note: Jerry Nord has since passed away. We are grateful that his story was recorded.
Interviewed by Steve Lenius, October 2, 2011. Video, sound, and editing by Andrew Bertke. This transcript has been edited for readability and length, and names are spelled as they appear in the club’s roster. The videos have the full conversation.
Watch the interview
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Coming out and finding leather
Where were you born and raised?
I was born in Red Wing, Minnesota, but I was raised in the Northfield area, on a farm.
When did you come out as gay?
After I was divorced from a woman, in 1976. I knew I was gay, and I wanted to go further with that and be myself instead of leading two lives.
How did you get into leather?
I first met a bartender at the Gay 90s named Vern Mielke, who introduced me to leather. Now, I wasn’t strictly leather. I was Levi. I had accessories in leather, but leather was expensive, and one’s appearance changes. I felt more comfortable in Levi.
Did people think less of you for that?
I really didn’t care. I was my own person. I was going to be who I was, and not be persuaded to be in leather just for being in the leather community.
Who mentored you?
I’m glad you said mentors, because it wasn’t just one person. Vern told me to think about becoming a man of leather by joining the Atons. I went to a couple of meetings and felt comfortable with Vern, Jim Courtney and Lyle Wasson. Then I became a pledge, and I got to be part of the club and see how the club worked.
Editor’s note: Jim Courtney tells how the club began, and what he remembers of the early years, in his interview.
What attracted you to leather, besides Vern?
That’s personal. David Barthold and I became lovers for an extended time. He was into leather, even though he was never a member of the club, and he encouraged me to get more into it. We were together a lot at events, and I started buying more leather. But I still stayed leather and Levi.
Editor’s note: The club’s roster lists Jerry as a member from 1980. As a pledge, and before that, he would have been attending runs and meetings earlier.
My years in the club
How long were you in the Atons?
Probably from about 1977 until about 1990.
You were president, weren’t you?
I think approximately 1983 to 1985. I’m not saying that’s true. If somebody else wants to step in and say no, you weren’t, I’m fine with that. At the same time, I was president of the National Cosmetology Association, and I took a two-year leave from the club to do that.
Why did you step back?
I didn’t feel like I could take enough time to participate. When you stop going to meetings and stop being in touch with new members, you fall back. It was a whole new group, because so many people had either died or left the club, and I was older than most of them. My life was changing in other ways, too. I’d done everything in the club: officer, fundraisers, moving things forward. I felt younger members should take the helm, and Sam was there. It was a new movement forward, a new era.
Did you have any involvement with the Knights of Leather?
No. I had no involvement with them.
Who was in the club
Tell me who was in the club when you were a member.
When I was a member it was Vern Mielke, and Bill Dieffenbach, who was his partner. Jim Booth, Jack Hunt, Jim Courtney, Lyle Wasson, and Tom Mynor. Tom was one of the first Black guys in Minnesota who was in a club, a real feisty, very good-looking man. Of course, he succumbed to AIDS, along with his partner Lyle. Then it moved on to Steve Johnson, Clark Bufkin, and Joe. And then the younger guys started coming along, like Sam.
Tell me about Charles Lamar.
Charles was a good friend of mine. The older members certainly remember him. He was a promoter of leather. Every other month or every three months he had to have something new, custom made, or he’d go to the manufacturer and they’d make it for him. Boots to die for. Some of the best-looking coats. Leather slacks, with stirrups and pockets on the side that flared out, and patches, and chains going up the sides of his pants. He could have got on a horse and ridden off. And he was a good-looking man. It was always interesting to see what Charles would be wearing at what event, and it was always something new.
He had the money, so he could do it. He also worked for the airlines, so he could take off and go to a run, or go shopping in China or Japan or wherever to find the latest. I remember him coming home one time with a German outfit that the leather guys over there made for him.
Runs, work and brotherhood
What was the first Atons run you went to?
It was probably an in-town one, or maybe out in the western part of the state, but not New Ulm. It was a private park, a Boy Scout camp or something, in the cabin areas. I don’t remember exactly what it was called. I think I was still a pledge, and it was part of the bylaws that you had to attend runs before you became a member. I think that’s still the same.
What went into putting on a run?
It was hell, and I don’t think it has changed much today. You have to raise money to pay for it, because the club doesn’t have a lot of money. They don’t have a buffer, and if you think you ever will, well, good luck. You went out to put on a cocktail party, or you got up early in the morning to do eye-openers, and there was advertising. It’s a lot of money, and you had to work hard just to come even, and most of the time you didn’t. One year we even did the cooking in the kitchen. That was hell. I’m not a cook, but you had to do what you had to do to put on a successful run.
What’s the value of doing a run?
Coming together, working as a team, as positive as you possibly can, with everybody participating. If you don’t participate but take the credit, that’s not it. It’s that underground brotherhood. You can yell and scream at each other, but in the end, you put this on and you were part of it.
Talk about the sex.
I’m not going to talk about sex.
Were you active in the larger gay and lesbian community?
No, I had no involvement with that. But I did travel to runs. I was pretty active, and it was a great time to party and meet people from different parts of the country. It’s truly brotherhood. If somebody angered one of the other members, we usually heard it from each other before it went public. If you really got drunk, we took care of each other. I remember going to St. Louis, Chicago, Green Bay, Kansas City, depending on the time of year. I remember being snowed in in Green Bay one winter. I didn’t think we’d ever get out of that place, but it was fun. You took care of each other and rode together, and it was pretty intimate.
I remember the Kansas City guys, and the guys in Des Moines. In Chicago we’d go to the Gold Coast, and those were always larger runs, so you get to know people by their faces. I remember the Argonauts up in Wisconsin. I traveled somewhat with some of the guys in the Black Guard, and we’d hook up and be together.
Were there title contests then?
Jim Wells was our first representative that we promoted from Minneapolis to go to Chicago. I went once. It was awesome. I’d never seen so many good-looking men in one gathering.
The shows
Do you remember the Black Guard’s run shows?
I remember Jack Hunt coming in in flamboyant outfits, dressed in gold, in long gowns. One year, Jack Hunt and Charles Lamar and maybe three or four other guys, even some who weren’t members of the club, dressed in these long gowns and did some kind of style show. It was funnier than hell.
I also remember somebody who did a comedy review. He wasn’t a drag show person, but all of a sudden he turned into this drag show monster, and the whole place was almost in tears from laughing, because he was so perfect in how he portrayed the character. It was relaxing, just time to let yourself go with the flow of what the show was going to be. It was hard to do, but somehow we did it. I’m sure there are pictures in the archives of some of us through the years.
The Atons don’t do shows anymore?
They leave that to the Black Guard. At the Star Toll run we did a skit, all of us that were there. We can perform. We just don’t tend to put dresses on in public. Definitely not in public.
Bars, parties and giving back
What do you remember about the bars?
I mostly went to the Gay 90s. It was in a lot of transition during the time I was there, because the bar was expanding upstairs and downstairs and different bars were being added. The leather bar was upstairs, and it had a huge motorcycle in it. That was our first actual leather bar that I can remember, and the Atons were supportive of it. Then it moved further back, into the guts of the building, to the west. It became bigger, and that’s the bar I went to.
Editor’s note: The Gay 90s is still open at gay90s.com.
Did the club have parties?
We didn’t have a lot of parties, because there was always a problem with money. I think there were parties at Christmas time, at the Saloon or the 90s, back and forth between those two gay-oriented bars.
What else did you do?
Our fundraisers. Toys for Tots was a big part of the Atons when I first joined, through the ’90s. We raised money for Toys for Tots and the food shelf. That was the first big thing that I really felt good about doing, raising money and helping children. We worked hard on it, and it was a lot of work.
Editor’s note: Jim Courtney remembers how the toy drive began, with members trying to build a bicycle, in his interview.
We also went out and fed needy people. The bartenders and waitresses down at the 90s would turn in names, and at Thanksgiving time we’d bring a turkey dinner to shut-ins or people in the community. I don’t remember how many dinners we did, but we’d bring a full dinner to the people they recommended. So it wasn’t just that the money was going for the runs or the club treasury. We gave back to the community. It was rewarding, seeing the faces of the children who were getting this big, already-prepared turkey for Thanksgiving.
We also collected hundreds of dollars and canned food at the Saloon at Christmas time. It was a big fundraiser. A ton of the leather community and others always attended. It brought in a lot of people, and it was great.
The quiet benefactor
Anyone else you want to remember?
I forgot to mention Greg Gust, who lived down in Dodge Center. He was an active member, too, and he gave a lot of money to the club, and left more in his memory afterwards. We ran on this little fluffy pillow for a while. He paid for members to get their uniforms, I think the year we changed uniforms, and he paid for some people’s runs so they could go. It wasn’t all about money. They could enjoy going.
Editor’s note: Jim Courtney describes Greg’s funeral, where the Atons stood as an honor guard in full dress leather colors, in his interview.
There are these secret people who come forward and never get recognized. They probably do more things in the background than up front, and they don’t care to take the credit. They just want to be part of it and do it.
Editor’s note: Greg Gust left the club a bequest, which became the Greg Gust Fund, to help members travel to runs in other cities. The fund no longer exists.
The years of AIDS
What do you remember about the time when AIDS first appeared, and the years after?
Personally, it was awful. I lost quite a few friends. If you look around at my age group, there are fewer people my age in the gay community, because they are no longer with us. It was horrible. Every week it was somebody new who had AIDS.
It was terrible, because family members were moving away from these people, and other people in the community were coming forward to take them in. Two guys came to live with me for a while. Nothing was being done. It was terrible. I just can’t… When I think about it, I don’t want to talk about it anymore, actually.
Why the Atons are still here
Why do you think the Atons are still here?
Because there are people who don’t just want to be noted for being in a town. They want to participate and work and keep the club moving forward, and share brotherhood, and listen to each other, not be a king or queen. You don’t think you have to work to become a member to enjoy your fellow members. It’s being active, participating, joining in.
What are your hopes for the future of the club?
That they can still be a member in good standing in the community, and participate in events that showcase their membership, and work as a club and get new members, younger guys, involved. I don’t think the Atons are a threatening club in the gay community.
What would you say to young leather men and women today?
Don’t be shy or afraid of it until you’ve actually heard from an actual member what leather is about. And go slow with it. Know yourself.
More Atons history: Oral history: Jim Courtney, History of Atons runs, About us.