By William Waybourn

You always knew when John Thomas was nearby. Maybe it was his height. Or his imposing presence. Or the way he hugged people, then pressing his fingers into your back to find any tension he might help resolve. Remarkably, everyone thought John Thomas was their "best friend," too.

My own experience of John began when I saw him at a bar on Maple Avenue and asked him how he liked his new job at the Dallas Times Herald. He grabbed my arm and asked how I knew him. As a former editor at the Herald, I told him that the buzz had spread quickly about “the new gay human resources director.” We talked for a while until I had to leave and meet my partner, Craig, so John just came along with me. That night was the start of our "best friend" relationship that lasted for more than two decades.

Not long after that, John introduced Craig and me to Bill Nelson and Terry Tebedo because John knew that we shared the same desire to create change. That introduction was also a pivotal moment, because Craig and I ended up being business partners and "best friends" with Bill and Terry. We joined forces to open Crossroads Market on Cedar Springs at Throckmorton in the Oak Lawn neighborhood of Dallas.

John's magnetism was a tour de force. He could enter any room, gathering, or event and be immediately recognized and admired. I called him "Teflon John" because, unlike Bill or me, nothing controversial stuck to him, even though he was in the thick of the struggle for equal rights for the LGBT community as much as we were, as well as at the center of AIDS activism.

John's elevation to Vice President of Human Resources at the Herald was a notable milestone for our community in those years. There were many LGBT executives in those days, but many felt they needed to stay in the closet to advance in their professions. With John, being out was never an issue. He was, he said, "too big to hide in a closet." Indeed, his personality was oversized, as well.

John's friendship with others was as deep as he was tall. He was one of those friends who always seemed to know when to show up. The night I returned from my mother's funeral, I opened our door, and there he was. "You probably won't be able to sleep much tonight,” he said, “so I want to be here when you want to talk." We sat up all night talking about my mother. I did the same when his mother died a few years later. That was the kind of friendship we had.

When John decided to leave corporate America, the Dallas Gay Alliance had the perfect job for him as the first salaried executive director of the newly formed Foundation for Human Understanding and its AIDS Resource Center. John's leadership in those early days was instrumental in creating one of the nation's largest community-based organizations (now known as Resource Center") and, along with others, helped lead our response to AIDS. There are no words to describe the devastation it imposed on our community, friends, and families, but John's "hugs" always seemed to provide much needed solace.

John became the public face of the AIDS Resource Center and its work. He was mediagenic and the perfect spokesperson. Unfortunately, I could never break him of his habit of wearing mismatched attire and food-stained ties.

John was one of the principal founders of the Dallas Black Tie Dinner, the Dallas Legal Hospice, the Gay and Lesbian Victory Fund, and the Turtle Creek Chorale. He lead the effort to raise the funding to create the Cathedral of Hope in Dallas, the centerpiece of which is a tall bell tower named in John’s honor. He was the first openly gay Republican to address the Republican National Committee, and he was one of the plaintiffs in Morales vs. Texas, a pivotal litigation in the Texas state courts to declare Section 21.06 of the Texas Penal Code invalidl under the Texas State Constitution.

When an arsonist set fire to the community center and offices in 1989, burning it to the ground, John mobilized an army of volunteers to spring back from that devastating loss, and we didn't miss a beat in delivering food and services to clients. People didn't have to ask to join, and John made sure everyone was recognized even for the smallest contribution, personal or financial.

I still vividly recall the exact moment that John told me he had tested positive for HIV. I think I took the news worse than he did. He was upbeat and positive, an attitude that he maintained right up to the end despite having contracted a very aggressive strain of HIV.

We shared many hours on the phone or traveling together, writing letters or notes to each other in those pre-internet days. John's purchase of an Apple Macintosh computer opened a Pandora's communications box to write powerful letters to public officials — supportive and errant alike. Like Bill Nelson, John was a prolific writer. He kept copious notes in his stream-of-consciousness style that was almost impossible for anyone to decipher. We also had lengthy discussions about life hereafter; John was religious, and, though I was not, we hit upon a compromise that individuals lived forever by invoking memories..

John also had a "crush" on Mike Anglin, and I was tasked with driving him around to find Mike's car so he could leave notes on his windshield. While the romance didn't last, Mike and John had a similar bond and trust that endured for decades. Such friendships are not easily forgotten.

When John decided to forgo further treatment for AIDS, I received a folder with my "instructions." The first letter was one I had sent him in 1983: "To have a good friend is the purest of all God's gifts, for it is a love that has no exchange of payment. It is not inherited, as with a family. And it has no means of physical pleasure. It is, therefore, an indescribable bond that brings with it a far deeper devotion than all the others." – Frances Farmer.

It was classic John Thomas that he kept such a note all those years.

Upon John's death, Mike Anglin and I were the beneficiaries of boxes of binders full of notes, cards, and letters. Mike and I went through each box and sent relevant documents to The Dallas Way's archival collection at the library of the University of North Texas where they will be available for researchers for many years to come.

Although many today never knew him, he lives on through the many fond memories those lucky ones who did.

IN HIS OWN WORDS. Here are some quotations from John Thomas.

[Jan. 19, 1985] “1984 – the year AIDS seriously hit Dallas. I began to scan the death notices in the newspaper. The severity and desolation is matched only by the apathy and fatalism within our community and the minimal, nominal concern and resources from the government.”

[Jan. 24, 1985] “A computer – the IBM PC Jr., is on sale. Would I really use it?”

[May 8, 1985] “My fierce independence and drive to achieve overwhelms others; yet the fulfillment and rewards of being exactly who I am, and knowing who I am and where I’m going, contributes to a daily adventure, to a life of integrity and with no regrets.”

[March 8, 1989] “I am here speaking on behalf of my best friend, Mike Hearn, who died on January 4, 1986. Do not allow AIDS to be dehumanized by mere numbers or statistics. People with AIDS have names and faces and jobs and families.” (Addressing Dallas City Council)

[April 1989] “I ask you to work with me to create an environment in which persons with AIDS, often homosexuals who have been forced to the painfully invisible lives, can be more forthright.”

[May 1992] “One of my favorite poems . . .

Do all the good you can. — by all the means you can. — in all the ways you can — at all the times you can — to all the people you can — as long as ever you can.” (by John Wesley)

[April 29, 1995] “What I say to myself and to you: Take control of your own life and make a difference for others with integrity and dignity. Stop hiding and lying and start being responsible for your own life and world. My symbols are rainbows and butterflies, as they represent hope and transformation.” (Accepting the 1995 Extra Mile Award)

[Date unknown] “I’ve always found it impossible to explain good friends to others. Whatever it is that holds us together might have seemed strange to someone else, but it is as natural to us as it must be special”

[Date unknown] “It’s better to shatter a dream than to conceal the truth.”

[Written to all those he would leave behind with his passing in 1999]. “Don’t celebrate my life. Live whatever part of my life you can and pass it on to others. Hurry on through the stages of loss and grief and mourning. There is really no time. Know that the depth of sorrow that I felt leaving you far surpasses whatever you may feel. My greatest sadness, and therefore tears, always came with a thought of letting you down or hurting you or disappointing you. Please support organizations advancing self-esteem and the value of the gay and lesbian community and people with AIDS/HIV. I would rather you do this from your own commitment to making a difference to improve the lives of others, rather than as a memorial to me.”