Queer and Roving on the Campaign Trail: Gimme Gimme Gimme (A Cyr After Midnight)
In the fifth and final part, in Cher we trust.
Reclaiming My Time is a series in which I try to revive some of the writings I lost to the ephemeral nature of the internet. I originally wrote Queer and Roving on the Campaign Trail in November 2018 for the now-defunct NewNowNext.com, a subsidiary of Logo TV, which was owned by Viacom, which shut the whole shit down and wiped everything from the web. Thank god for Word doc drafts. This five-part series followed Sen. Julian Cyr as he ran for re-election and seven years later, paints a picture of the political landscape we would soon inhabit and the resilience of local government amid national upheaval.
Courtesy Julian Cyr
Cher is a constant and comforting presence in Julian Cyr’s life.
Cyr’s radio is either tuned to NPR or the Cher Spotify station as he drives his way up and down Cape Cod. He refers to her latest album of ABBA covers as “the gift” the queer community needs in 2018. The A House, traditionally the last stop on a Provincetown night out, brings the off-season crowd to a sweaty, thrilling climax with Cher’s EDM-tinged version of “S.O.S.,” as Cyr celebrated his perceived debate victory over his state senate opponent, John Flores. The coffee mugs in his kitchen bear the image of Cyr and his family with the pop icon from that time in 2016 when she showed up in town for a Hillary Clinton fundraiser.
“It’s really hard for me to say anything bad about Secretary Clinton because she brought Cher to Provincetown,” Cyr recalls. “One of my good friends is pretty high up in the secretary’s finance operation and she was planning the event. I was asked to identify volunteers and I included my family in that, and one of my best friends, Jeffrey. I got a picture with Cher because I was running for office and they were letting me come as sort of an ‘emergent VIP.’ And then my family, who was assigned to man the line leading into the Cher photo room, were asked if they wanted a picture.
“My sister, my mom, and my dad were right there, and then we texted my sister-in-law, Devin, and Jeffrey. She and Jeffrey were off doing something else and she just sees Jeffrey running. She knew it must be something so she followed. And so we all got a family picture with Cher—who was mostly having a flirtatious conversation with my father. My whole family loved it. You definitely get to do really cool things with this sort of job and that probably was the coolest.”
Cher spoke on behalf of Clinton in the halcyon days of August 2016, before the nightmare in which we’ve all found ourselves began that November. Clinton may have lost nationally but Cyr’s local victory was proof that if you were young and queer and believed in something, there was a place in government for you. Two years later and the democratic process still feels bleak, even as more and more people try to pull up a seat at the table. But whether or not the country is overtaken by a blue wave on November 6, life continues on November 7. And there will still be real work to be done and real people whose lives will be impacted.
Cher asks about the drums, Fernando as we drive to Centerville to honor the firefighters of the Centerville-Osterville Marstons Mills (C-OMM) Fire Department. The Cape Cod community was shocked on April 12 when Yarmouth police officer Sgt. Sean Gannon, 32, was shot and killed by Tom Latanowich of Somerville while issuing him a warrant. Gannon’s K-9 partner, Nero, was also injured but survived after emergency surgery.
“These men here were the ones who pulled them out and tried to save their lives,” says Deputy Chief Steven Xiarhos of the Yarmouth Police Department of the C-OMM firefighters, who received special commendations issued by Cyr and other government officials, including Flores, a Barnstable town councilor.
The following morning, Cher seeks a man after midnight as we travel to Marstons Mills to the Cape Cod Oyster Company where Cyr and another young politico seeking re-election, state representative Dylan Fernandes, hold a press conference to discuss the success of an amendment they co-sponsored early in their tenures on Beacon Hill. The Environmental Bond Bill, signed into law by Governor Charlie Baker in August, will study acidification in the ocean and how to reduce its effect on the fishing and aquaculture industries, which are essential to the Cape.
“It used to be you could wash ashore or be born here and be able to make a good life, either in trades or hospitality or fishing,” Cyr says to the assembled press. “That’s changed a lot, driven largely, in my opinion, by very steep housing costs, and several other factors, but our aquaculture remains a bright light in our local economy.”
Cyr and Fernandes
“You can dance and you can die,” Cher informs us in her husky contralto, “having the time of your life,” as Cyr drives from the working class town of Yarmouth to the more affluent Cobbs Village, one of the towns in Barnstable, for a small fundraiser hosted by the parents of a Cyr campaign volunteer. Yes, a large part of being a politician is crafting legislation and working to improve one’s community, but another part, that proves essential particularly in an election year, is asking for money.
The Cyr campaign is set to raise $200,000 by the end of the campaign year. A healthy sum, but a drop in the bucket compared that to the more than $38 million U.S. Senate candidate Beto O’Rourke has raised in the third quarter of this year alone. The differences are that O’Rourke is running for a federal senate seat and his race has gained national attention—and, unlike, Cyr, he probably won’t win his campaign.
Regardless, both O’Rourke and Cyr have bright futures in politics. A 2020 run is all but presumed for O’Rourke, as well as for Massachusetts Senator Elizabeth Warren, which would leave a possible opening for Cyr to fill her Senate seat. But, at least for now, he is setting his sights lower.
“I just want to do this job and have a balanced life,” Cyr says of his immediate plans. “We can sit here and fantasize about what my political future could be or not be, but I think it’s about being ready for when the opportunity and the moment comes. So much of it is luck and I’m very cognizant of that. With whatever comes next, it’s about where you are then. But I’m like really grooving in the senate. I’ve catapulted way further in leadership in my first two years than I could’ve even imagined and I still feel I have a lot more to learn. I think when those opportunities come along, whether it’s Congress or something else, you look at it and you take it. But I think if anyone in politics sits there gaming out or fantasizing about their future, they’re just going to end up living in the wreckage of their rejected future. It’s something you can’t control.
“Also, I’m pretty young. I really like doing this now…am I going to still like doing this in a decade? I don’t know. Almost any job in politics could be inspiring and motivating and awesome. I think being president is a horrible job, and I don’t know why anyone would want to give up their ability to be a human being. Which I think is basically what you have to do. I guess my bar is: Can I still go to Tea Dance and have fun with my friends?”
Me and Cyr (and presumably Cher)
Cher calls out for help, wondering how she can carry on, and Cyr drives to the next stop, to make his next speech, to knock on the next door, on the long slog to November 6 and beyond.