The Speech of His Life : Fate Pushes a Political Insider Into Democratic Convention Spotlight to Talk About AIDS

Hi folks. I know this phone message has changed, but that’s because things have changed. I know you love me, but all these sad messages are beginning to sound like a bad Hallmark card. So keep it light, OK?

--Recent message on

Bob Hattoy’s phone machine

It won’t be the kind of summer he had planned.

By now, Bob Hattoy should have been in Little Rock, Ark., helping Gov. Bill Clinton beef up his platform for the upcoming presidential race. He’d been the campaign’s top environmental adviser and was preparing to leave his Park La Brea apartment for the duration of the election.

But then, last month, the veteran activist learned he had AIDS. The campaign gig was off. Instead of attending weekly issues meetings, Hattoy goes for weekly chemotherapy and fights for his life.

He’s also preparing for an historic moment in American politics: On Tuesday night, July 13, Hattoy will address the Democratic National Convention in New York City about AIDS. It will be the first time an openly gay man has made such a speech in prime time, and millions of television viewers will be tuned in.

Clinton asked him to appear, Hattoy says, and he’s overwhelmed by the prospect. What should he say? How will he conquer an almost certain case of nerves? This has all been so fast, so jarring, so . . . crazy.

“I’ve been trying to put it into perspective, and I’ve realized that AIDS is what I have, not who I am,” says Hattoy, 40. “I can’t speak for every AIDS activist group, but in a way I have to. I want to tell people that we have to beat this thing, and get beyond the politics of denial and death.”

It’s a serious moment and there’s a catch in Hattoy’s voice. But then he cracks a joke. Then he tells another. He’s considered to be one of the funniest persons in politics, and nothing is exempt from humor--even his own misfortune.

“If you want to know, I had a moment of true homosexual panic when this speech came up,” Hattoy says. “When they told me I had to go through this chemotherapy treatment or die, I had no problem. But when they said my hair would fall out if I had the treatment, I was torn.”

Clinton says he was shaken by the news of Hattoy’s illness, and praises him for still being able to laugh at life. Long before he knew of Hattoy’s condition, the Governor had pledged to have a person with AIDS address the convention. He said he asked his aide to speak because he feels a personal connection to him:

“Bob has been invaluable to me, because when he first came aboard, he told me what was good about my record in Arkansas, and what was bad, what needed to be changed,” says Clinton. “He’s a really honest person. He’s got a lot of guts.”

By now, if he were reading this article, Hattoy would be pulling out the red pencil. Tone it down, he’d say. Let’s keep things in perspective.

“I mean, I could get to New York and forget to look both ways crossing the street and get hit by a bus, before I even give this speech,” Hattoy says. “I can see it all now: Gay Activist Hit by Bus. Film at 11.”

With Hattoy, one crack usually spawns 10 more. But his mood quickly turns serious when discussing his health. Since he discovered a lump under his arm and learned he had AIDS-related lymphoma, friends have rallied round. Hattoy tested positive for HIV two years ago, but hoped that his good health would continue. He remains confident.

“My life used to be filled with press statements and politicians, and now it’s filled with chemotherapy and bone marrow extractions and CAT scans,” he says. “It’s all the same to me. I’ve always been good at fights.”

For years, Robert Keith Hattoy has been one of Southern California’s more accomplished activists. Brash, insightful and occasionally off the wall, he’s worked for groups like the ACLU and the Sierra Club, for which he now is regional director. He’s been a staff member for Los Angeles City Councilman Zev Yaroslavsky, and worked in numerous Democratic presidential campaigns. In California political circles, everybody knows Hattoy.

Reporters seeking the lowdown on breaking stories call him for information, and he rarely disappoints. More important, he provides them with snappy one-liners that frequently make their way into headlines.

“Bob gives good quote. Bob gives great quote,” says Pam Kramer, Los Angeles correspondent for the San Jose Mercury-News. “You could look up a whole list of them, and each one is better than the next.”

Kramer scans her computer and comes up with a gem. Last year, controversy erupted about Disneyland’s bid to short-circuit the process for getting a permit from the California Coastal Commission. Hattoy was unimpressed, saying: “If we have to stand in line to ride the Matterhorn, Mickey Mouse should stand in line for a Coastal Commission permit.”

He’s also a master of confrontation: When Hattoy worked at a Los Angeles AIDS fund-raiser last year, he found himself standing in a corner with former President Ronald Reagan. He thanked Reagan for attending, then stunned him by asking why he had done so little to fight AIDS during his eight years in the White House.

“Bob really fights hard for things he believes in,” says Rep. Barbara Boxer (D-Marin), the Democratic nominee for one of two U.S. Senate seats from California this November. “Where other people tiptoe around things, he’s right there in your face if he thinks your resolve has weakened.”

It’s been a familiar compliment--or complaint--about Hattoy since he was a kid growing up in Southern California. From the beginning, say his friends, he’s been a troublemaker in the best sense of the word.

Born in Rhode Island, Hattoy’s family moved to Anaheim when he was in junior high. The experience was bizarre, he remembers, “kind of like moving from Main Street to Mars,” and life in suburbia was not his cup of tea.

Always the extrovert, Hattoy relished his role in a Long Beach regional marching band, where he played the cymbals. He loved gabbing with friends and Joel Sappell, now an assistant city editor at The Times, was one.

“Bob loved that marching band, because he had a lot of social energy, he loved being with people,” says Sappell. “But he was always getting in trouble. If I heard the drill instructor scream ‘Hattoy, shut up!’ once, I heard him scream it a million times.”

Bored with Orange County, Hattoy was riveted by growing opposition to the Vietnam War. Beginning in his teens, he worked for anti-war groups and Democratic Party voter registration drives. His conservative family didn’t approve, and Hattoy remembers the time as a struggle, both politically and with his emerging sexuality.

One summer, he worked at Disneyland dressed up as Winnie the Pooh. The irony was not lost on him: “I could pass as a straight Disney character in this repressive amusement park because I had short hair. But at the same time I was a gay, hippie, anti-war radical. You could say I was an odd kid.”

Hattoy drifted in and out of college, not knowing what he wanted to do. Yet he had always been drawn to politics, and it helped him land his first full-time job in 1978 with Yaroslavsky. Quitting as a waiter at the Comedy Store, he plunged into the rent-control controversy enveloping City Hall.

The new staffer worked with seniors who feared eviction from their homes, and later aided in a city investigation of Los Angeles Police Department spying practices. His sexual orientation was no longer a secret, and he eventually left Los Angeles to work on gay-related issues in the Bay Area.

Although he speaks respectfully about his family, Hattoy stresses that they never understood him. His friends do, however, and many have been impressed by his political independence. Bob can be an exasperating and demanding friend, they say, and it’s hard to kick back with him. But when it comes to an old-fashioned fight, he’s true blue.

Hattoy’s talents blossomed when he was hired by the Sierra Club in 1983. Suddenly, he had a position that commanded media attention. Speaking on issues ranging from clean air to forest preservation, he became a potent lobbying force in Los Angeles, Sacramento and Washington, D.C.

“I really think he’s one of the most important environmental political figures in this country,” says Yaroslavsky. “That’s not an exaggeration. He’s credible in the halls of Congress and at City Hall. He’s definitely somebody you’d want on your side, and he’s gotten nationwide exposure.”

Through it all, Hattoy has maintained his irreverent outlook on life and penchant for the outrageous. He’s an outspoken gay man and a passionate advocate for his beliefs. If people don’t like it, tough .

“I’ve always seen Bob as a kind of impish, free-spirited guy pretending to be a political hack,” says Assemblyman Tom Hayden (D-Santa Monica).

“Somehow, he’s managed to survive in a bureaucratic organization like the Sierra Club. It’s kind of rare for the environmental movement to display a sense of humor, but that’s exactly what he’s brought to it.”

Now, facing AIDS, Hattoy insists he’s the same person. Scared and uncertain, for sure. But still the same old Bob.

When Clinton asked him to give the speech, Hattoy was unsure. He had a long talk with the candidate while Clinton was in Los Angeles two weeks ago, and told him what it felt like to have AIDS. At the end of their visit, the Governor told Hattoy he was a natural choice to appear at the convention.

“I don’t know how it’s going to turn out, but I know some of the points I want to make,” Hattoy says. “I’ve never seen such compassion as I have in the people who have been helping me. I have friends who take me to a hospital every Wednesday, so I can get chemotherapy, and who cook meals for me.

“I see people hold hands with other people in AIDS hospices. The gay and lesbian community could tell Dan Quayle a lot about family values.”

It’s a good line, and Hattoy chuckles. But now really, he asks a reporter, what are you going to write? Is this going to get maudlin?

“I’ve been an activist with 20 years of experience and now I have AIDS for four weeks, and I’m speaking for the world,” he says with a sigh. “I don’t want to be just another angry gay man at the podium screaming about AIDS, but there are things that have to be said.

“And folks, I’m going to say them.”