With his distinguished gray hair and conservative manner, Christopher Whitney seems more like your local church pastor than a person known as “The Sex Guy.
” Born in Bucks County, Whitney began working in New York City at the start of the HIV/AIDS crisis with the National Hemophilia Society, a job that prepared him for 16 years of work as the HIV/AIDS director at the Bucks County Health Department. While Whitney is known for his frank talk about all matters sexual, as well as his musical talents — he’s a fine tenor — we found out about him at a screening of “Anonymous People,” a documentary about the stigma of addiction that he helped bring to William Way LGBT Community Center.
PGN: So tell me a little bit about yourself. CW: Well, I grew up in Huntington Valley, which is interesting because my partner, Frank, grew up on the Main Line. We both lived about 30 minutes from Philadelphia, but on opposite sides. We lived in parallel universes until we collided 22 years ago.
PGN: Family? CW: I’m an only child. My father was an automobile dealer. My mother was a homemaker. This was back in the ’50s and my parents believed that an educated child needed to learn how to play a musical instrument, speak a foreign language and play bridge. I’ve done all three with measured success.
PGN: Which instrument and which language? CW: I started playing piano at 5, then trombone, and I’ve always sung in choirs. For a language, I spoke German. Side note: My father was concerned that, like a lot of kids taking a language in school, I was getting good grades but didn’t really seem to be able to converse with our German neighbors. My As were irrelevant in the real world, so he mandated I spend a semester abroad to truly learn to speak and read the language. It was amazing.
PGN: Where did you go to college? CW: I wanted to see a different part of the country so I did my bachelor’s at Indiana University and my master’s at Notre Dame.
PGN: When did you realize you were gay? CW: I was a slow learner. Like many men of my time, I went to college, got a job and got married. When my wife initiated a divorce after 10 years, I relocated to Cleveland, where I had extended family, and was offered a job teaching high-school English and European history. After spending some time licking my wounds, a friend asked me if I wanted to accompany him to a gay bar called Traxx. I was 33 at the time. Within 10 minutes of being in that venue, I knew I was home. That night, I called my parents and their reaction was, “Do not stay in the Midwest. Get yourself back to the East Coast, where you can be in the New Hope area and meet a variety of professional gay men.” So that’s what I did.
PGN: That’s great. CW: Yes, I’ve been very fortunate to have had parents who were always very accepting of the GLBT community. They socialized and did business with them, so there was no hesitation on my part and no reservation on their part when I came out.
PGN: How long did you teach high school? CW: Ten years, from 1970-80. I loved teaching and am still in touch with a number of students.
PGN: How did you go from there to the health-care industry? CW: When I returned from Cleveland, it was right at the time the AIDS epidemic was unfolding. I was hired by the National Hemophilia Society Foundation in New York to direct their AIDS education program. I guess they appreciated that I had experience working with young people and school systems. You may remember Ryan White and the tribulations with the schools that he faced. It was interesting because it was a predominantly heterosexual organization. So I was involved in a slightly different approach to the dynamics of how the disease impacted individuals and families. It was very gratifying but extremely upsetting because of the lack of treatment at the time. So many men were dying around me in horrible proportions. At the time I decided to get my own HIV test; I wasn’t as wild as some of the people around me, but I hadn’t been a choirboy either. I had the test done at the Bucks County Health Department and I was so impressed with the quality of the counseling and testing there that, when they had an opening for an education director, I interviewed for and got the job. It was the best move I ever made and I stayed with them for 16 years. It brought me closer to my parents and ultimately led to me meeting Frank.
PGN: And to being known as “The Sex Guy.” CW: [Laughs] Yes! Well, there was another man in town named Chris Whitley who was a wedding photographer and when I first started working at the health department he was getting calls at all hours of the night from people — often under the influence of God knows what — blurting out sexually explicit questions and I was getting calls during the day to photograph weddings and bar mitzvahs! So we met up and agreed that I’d go by Christopher instead of Chris and that soon morphed into “The Sex Guy” or “The AIDS Guy.”
PGN: That must be interesting in some of the places you teach. I understand you talk about AIDS health and sex in rotary clubs and schools … CW: Oh yes, I get a lot of questions: mostly if being gay was a choice or not, and a lot of denial that [HIV/AIDS] could happen in their homes or communities. Also, there was a big failure to realize that alcohol in the suburbs, even more than drugs in the cities, was putting people at risk for STDs of all kinds. And good Lord, I got all sorts of crazy questions too. We had a cashier in New Hope who was afraid that sharing the cash register with an employee she thought was gay would cause her to “catch” AIDS. One just had to suck it up and meet people where they were to start chipping away at all the misinformation.
PGN: Why do you think people are able to relate to you so well? CW: I think I did as much or more listening as I did talking. I also made myself available to people 24/7. I always tried to offer a variety of steps to take and, for those who were already active and put themselves in harm’s way, I focused on risk reduction rather than abstinence.
PGN: for someone whose bio has you listed as a choir singer, church organist and history teacher, you seem unusually open to speaking frankly and explicitly about sex. CW: , I never minced words, which in part came from my teaching background. It allowed me to strike a tone with whatever audience I was speaking to that kept it professional but opened up discussion.
PGN: Changing directions, how did you and Frank meet? CW: We met at a local bar on ladies’ night! I was there to contact a person who’d tested HIV-positive but hadn’t come back to the clinic to get the results. He was there with a lady friend and had made an observation about the way I was dressed because I was in a suit. After I’d made the contact, I was lingering by the piano when his friend came over and said, “My friend Frank plays the piano” and I said something inane like, “Oh, he has a very strong left hand!” That was the beginning of what has been the best adventure in my life.
PGN: Now that Pennsylvania has legalized marriage equality, will you tie the knot here? CW: Funny you should ask. We actually just got our marriage certificate from Canada in the mail last week. We were thinking about trying to marry here now but found out we can’t. Since the Canadian marriage is considered valid, we’d have to get divorced first to marry again!
PGN: Tell me about “Jeopardy.” CW: Wow, you’ve done your research! [Laughs] Yes, I auditioned for “Jeopardy” and placed second out of 500 in the Philadelphia-region contestant search. It was an absolute hoot. Frank and a neighbor sent in a postcard and I was invited to come in and take a written test. People came from near and far and about 30 of us were invited to play a simulated version of the game in front of the show’s representatives, who assessed our likeability and camera readiness. They monitored everything we did; even if you had to go to the bathroom, you were followed. One guy was so nervous he threw up, but I thought it was fun and something I’d be able to talk about at cocktail parties for years to come. One of the judges said that I was dressed appropriately but thought I was borderline pompous!
PGN: Funny! So let’s talk about your music: You are the current president of the Bucks County Choral Society. CW: Yes, I was going into treatment for alcohol addiction and decided I needed new ways to spend my time and energy. In one week, I auditioned for the choral and for an all-male a-cappella group called Cordus Mundi. The Cordus audition was two hours, involved four languages and I didn’t hear for days. The Choral Society audition was five minutes with an immediate “yes!” God, it’s fun. I’ve been really active in both for 10 years now; Frank too.
PGN: Tell me a little bit about your addiction and recovery. CW: I was at one time a social drinker who over a period of time created more and more opportunities to be socially drinking. I got to the point where I couldn’t seem to get through the day without the crutch of alcohol. The irony was that at the time I was on the board of the local alcohol and drug dependency organization. I got a DUI and fortunately no one was hurt, but I know Frank and my friends were concerned. That was a wake-up call and my intervention, so to speak. I sought out and benefited from treatment and with a lot of support from a lot of people — and I had the benefit of knowing how and where to access help, which many people don’t — it enabled me to get on a path to health and wellness. That and, as I mentioned, the music and other things I used to channel my energy and passion. I hope that my openness about this will help open some eyes, just as my being openly gay has helped change misconceptions.
PGN: So I guess you were … is it called a “functioning alcoholic”? CW: I suppose that applies, in that I went to work every day, but I wince at the term because, looking back, I certainly wasn’t functioning at the level I should have been. I was going through the motions and appeared to be functioning.
PGN: I would think part of the stigma is created because we picture an alcoholic to be the person with the lampshade on their head or the person asleep in the subway. CW: Yes, yes. And how sad and misinformed it is. Because this is a disease that affects people in all walks of life, but often those of us who are educated and have the benefit of stable jobs are able to maintain a certain daily discipline and disguise our addiction longer. We can mask the chaos within us. When it comes to drugs it’s even more so: We imagine some disheveled, homeless junkie with a needle sticking out of his or her arm, when in reality it may be some high-powered professional or suburbanite abusing prescription drugs or other illegal drugs who’s the addict.
PGN: Why was the film important to you? CW: Anonymous People” is a documentary about the stigma of addiction and how possible sustained recovery can be, that this is a disease, not a case of people who choose to make bad decisions. The film gives voice to people from all walks of life and is very affirming and positive. We hope that it will help people understand that we need to start funding addiction treatment and recovery. With the proper support, the rate of recovery from addiction is quite high, certainly higher than with other chronic diseases such as diabetes or any other disease that doesn’t have the stigma that addiction does. PGN: Time for random questions. One time I got in hot water … CW: Was when I was booked to give the keynote address at an AIDS conference in Louisville, Ky., immediately after being in Puerto Rico for a similar purpose. I arrived in Louisville wearing floral Caribbean attire in the dead of winter. My suitcase was shipped from San Juan to Salt Lake City. I gave the keynote address in mid-January in a short-sleeved floral shirt and shorts to an audience of “buttoned-up” doctors and nurses from throughout the South and Midwest.
PGN: What is your hidden talent? CW: Probably my memory and retention of people’s names and at least one thing important to them.
PGN: The thing I like most about myself is … CW: Having cultivated a very wide circle of diverse friends — not merely acquaintances, but true friends.
PGN: If your cats could ask a question, what would they want to know? CW: I have three cats — Mozart, Cello and Piccolo — and each would probably ask why Frank is so much more attentive to their needs than I.
PGN: Describe your best or most memorable Christmas gift. CW: Three winters ago, my dear friend and singing compatriot, Eric Muth, gave me a copy of the one-act opera “Amahl and the Night Visitors,” as televised each Christmas season back in the 1950s. Black and white, the tape is grainy and an overhead boom mic sometimes appears in the camera shot. It was one of my first introductions to opera, courtesy of my father. I was speechless. And then I wept.
PGN: Is a messy desk the sign of a creative person or a lazy person? CW: A messy desk is a sign of a busy person hampered by the lack of a secretary and trying to multitask. Creativity has nothing to do with it.
PGN: What do you have on you that best describes your personality? CW: I always have a couple of pens on my person so I can jot something down or make a list of things to do.
PGN: What three singers — alive or dead — would you choose to make up a quartet with you? CW: That’s easy: Beverly Sills, Renée Fleming and Josh Groban. Poor Josh and I would be hopelessly outclassed, but what an image.
PGN: What’s the funniest thing you did as a kid? CW: Apparently when I was a little boy (age 4) I pinched the bottom of a fat lady who squeezed in front of me at the local market. The lady was outraged but the store owner said it served her right for butting in line. I was punished — no Nestle’s Crunch candy bar for a week.
PGN: Three favorite sounds? CW: That would be well-modulated laughter, a Scriabin chord and my cats purring.
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