By Jewelle Gomez –
When Ed Decker created the New Conservatory Theatre Center (NCTC) in 1981 in San Francisco’s Civic Center, he was focused on theatre for low-income youth. NCTC has since blossomed into a cultural icon. At the time of NCTC’s founding, I was still living in New York City and had just joined the lesbian literary magazine collective Conditions. Ed and I were traveling vastly divergent paths, but had some external elements in common.
Ronald Reagan was president and his fear of the Black Panther Party carrying guns led him to instigate the one time the U.S. wanted gun control. The Meese Commission was condemning our newly liberated female eroticism as pornography. And we were all united against two things: the Briggs Initiative, which would have forbidden queer teachers the right to teach in public schools; and HIV/AIDS, the pandemic whose name never crossed Reagan’s lips.
Despite these traumatic challenges, queer culture was blossoming across the country—from the Women’s Press Movement and the ascendence of lesbian musical talents like Tracy Chapman, Ferron, and Linda Tillery, to the curtain rising on artists such as Harvey Fierstein and Terrence McNally.
This was the tumultuous time of art and politics that helped form who Ed Decker and I are today. So, when we met in 2001, we had some common cultural points of reference, but we were also very different. I’d just joined the staff of the San Francisco Arts Commission as a grantmaker, and my office was in a tiny basement room across the hall from NCTC. When Ed stopped by to introduce himself, we surprised each other with a deep sense of connection and lively conversation that has continued to the present day.
At an event several years later, Ed heard me read a monologue from the early stages of my play about James Baldwin, Waiting for Giovanni, which I was writing with my friend Harry Waters, Jr. He invited me to lunch to discuss it and I arrived at the Thai restaurant with a lot of scraps of paper in a folder, totally uncertain what to expect. From that conversation grew the idea of a trilogy I called Words and Music. I wasn’t sure about much beyond the title for the Baldwin piece but, for me, the magic of Ed Decker and the theatre he created has been his curiosity and encouragement.
Through the tumultuous 1980s, before we knew each other, we both came to believe that art can change the world for the better. We approached it from distinctly different backgrounds, yet we each put our faith in curiosity and creativity. At an early reading of the script for the Baldwin play, one of Ed’s board members recognized that NCTC would need to do a lot of outreach to attract the audience for an almost all-Black play. This was a departure from the usual for the theatre, and Ed was enthusiastic about my work and the changes it might bring to the theatre.
As part of the New Voices New Work program, Ed commissioned, developed, and produced my three plays: Waiting for Giovanni; Leaving the Blues, about singer/songwriter Alberta Hunter; and Unpacking in P’town about a group of retired Vaudevillians. Through the decade in which we worked together, I came to rely on Ed for the hard questions both philosophical (What’s the role of the ghost here?) and practical (Do you really need slides here?). And he was always actually asking, which meant I needed to truly consider the answer, so it was rational for both of us. Once invited into his institutional family, I was eager for the work we would do together because whomever I worked with—my dramaturg, the press director, or technicians—the encounters led me toward being a better writer.
During the COVID lockdown, Ed brought together (virtually) a group of playwrights to create a podcast comedy, In Good Company, about (surprise) a queer theatre in lockdown. Only Ed could provide me with the opportunity to write dialogue appropriated from Tennessee Williams for a parrot.
Whether it was a detailed dissection of a scene I was writing or a quick flurry of texts bemoaning new revelations about dangers to democracy being cooked up in Washington, I understood that Ed and I shared similar values and a sense of humor. These are two key ingredients in any lasting relationship.
It’s said that we are known by the company we keep. In that case, I’ve been vastly elevated by associating with the actors, designers, directors, technicians, donors, and staff whom I’ve had the privilege of knowing at NCTC. Where else but the NCTC lobby could I have cocktails with Charles Busch, Sara Moore, Coleman Domingo, or Marga Gomez (whose new work is about to open)?
To me, art is the lace, honey, flowers, leather boots, and roaring engine that make life worth living. Ed Decker has spent a good part of his life delivering those gifts to us with the determination of … well … an artist. While I’ll miss the artistic director Ed has been, I feel fortunate I get to keep the friend.
Jewelle Gomez is a lesbian/feminist activist, novelist, poet, and playwright. She’s written for “The Advocate,” “Ms. Magazine,” “Black Scholar,” “The San Francisco Chronicle,” “The New York Times,” and “The Village Voice.” Follow her on Instagram and Twitter @VampyreVamp
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Published on October 23, 2025
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